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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25376794">Sokka and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyee/pseuds/greyee'>greyee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author has a potty mouth, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Comfort/Angst, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Past Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Slow Burn, Sokka has a bad day :(, idiots to lovers, insinuated child neglect, then a bunch of good days ;), they're like 20-ish, title is just inspired by book- fic has no relation to it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:36:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25376794</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyee/pseuds/greyee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sokka?” Zuko’s voice sounds more careful now. It’s not as frantic, more low and questioning in that rare soft tone that Sokka doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to.</p><p>“Could you…” Sokka’s voice is barely above a murmur, “could you come pick me up?”. He’s looking dazed at his legs splayed out in front of him, watching the rain slide off of his sneakers.</p><p>“Where are you?” Zuko says sternly.<br/>*<br/>*<br/>Or— Sokka has a comically shitty day, possibly year, but then Zuko comes into his life again to make it better.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sokka &amp; Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), mentioned - Aang/Katara (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>456</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. try your best to feel and receive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one is for my mans Sokka. He really is just a consistent pillar of joy and wisdom for the Gaang and he’s barely ever given time in especially—or atleast to my knowledge—Zukka fics to be the one to feel pain. I mean I’m all here for Zukka comfort fics, and Sokka wanting to rip Ozai’s hair out, but I also wanted to write some vulnerable Sokka and let him be the one who’s comforted for once. </p><p>Thanks to my friend @lalalazy or being such a champ and beta reading this for me. Luv u :) thanks for supporting me, and thanks to everyone who even clicked on this fic :o </p><p>All the chapter’s names are going to be from a Japanese Breakfast song because Michelle Zauner is my wife. This and future chapter titles are all lyrics from the song “The Body is A Blade.”</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So, Sokka was having a shitty day.</p><p>At that thought, he breaks too fast at a stop sign, jerking him forward, spilling the rest of his Monster energy drink, which had been carefully cradled between his thighs, all over his new joggers.</p><p>God, he looked like he pissed himself. Today <em>really</em> sucks.</p><p>First he woke up to his dad gone, <em>again</em>, with nothing but an infuriatingly short text from the man about the details about (yet another) one of his spontaneous mid-life crisis hunting trips.</p><p>And it’s fine, it’s fine to work this shit out. Getting old sucks ass and whatever, but it’s the <em>third fucking time</em> this month. The trips just keep getting longer and more sporadic, and this time he’d be gone for almost a week and a half. Sokka couldn’t understand why his dad had to keep disappearing during his last two years home before he was shipped off to his out-of-state college. </p><p>He, most importantly, doesn’t understand why his dad has to keep leaving after <em>years</em> of being deployed overseas in the navy. Why can’t he be a dad for more than a year, before turning Sokka and Katara over to the care of their Gran-Gran again? Luckily this time around they would get to stay at their own home and not bother her too much, but <em>still</em>.</p><p>Sokka knows his dad loves them, but is it so selfish to just want your dad around for a year or two more?</p><p>Anyway, so of course that was gonna put him into a grouchy mood. Of course he was gonna arrive at his job and be a <em>little</em> more impatient than usual.</p><p>If that impatience led him to him <em>“accidentally”</em> dropping an entire chocolate milkshake into the lap of a customer that had been slinging racial slurs at Sokka for the better part of two hours, then that was between him and the milkshake. </p><p>Well, and his manager. Who fired him for said act of sticky justice. </p><p>Was it worth it? Yes, racists suck. Will he ever live down the lecture he gets from Katara for being fired from his second fast-food job this year? Definitely not. </p><p>But then again she had been so busy with <em>Aang</em> maybe he would be spared. Don’t even get Sokka started on that guy. All bubbly laughter, bald-headedness, and preaches on the “values of animal lives” while Sokka thoughtlessly devoured an entire triple bacon cheese-burger in front of him during Katara’s 16th birthday party.</p><p>Sokka truly didn’t think things could get worse, but the universe can have a funny way of living up to the expectations of <em>that</em> sentence, huh? It was almost comical how much worse things could get. How much worse things did end up getting. </p><p>So yeah, Suki broke up with him too.</p><p>Sokka knew that things weren’t working between them. He knew that neither of them were good with long-distance, and that both of them would inevitably have to break up with the looming approach of college overhead. It had sucked to come to the slow realization that they both wanted more than what they were getting out of their relationship. Sokka knew he couldn’t be that more to her no matter how hard he tried, because what about the way Suki looked at that one girl in her martial arts class? </p><p>That screamed <em>more</em>. </p><p>Suki didn’t look at him that way.</p><p>No matter how tragically Sokka internally monologued it, their relationship had been stripped of any romance for a while, and that was the truth.</p><p>Still, it hurt when Sokka arrived at the park—the one they always met up at every Wednesday during their breaks to grab a coffee right across the street at their favorite cafe—to see Suki sitting on the park bench, coffees already stowed in a drink tray at her side, furrow in her brow, and a glazed look over her eyes. Her hands were fiddling with the chipping white paint of the wooden park bench. </p><p>Sokka couldn’t do anything but hold his breath when he sat next to Suki. She started to talk immediately. Her words were the ones he had echoed to himself in the quiet confines of his mind on quiet nights, when even the moon wasn’t out to keep him company. The words that his stupid, insecure, but infuriatingly right head didn’t want to end up being true.</p><p>The aching words <em>we both knew that this was coming</em> and <em>we’ll always be friends if you want to</em> and <em>I’m sorry, but we can’t keep holding on anymore.</em></p><p>And maybe the issue is that Sokka could have held on. All that mattered is that someone wanted to be at his side. All that mattered was that Suki had stuck around for so long, because God knows no one else did—</p><p>And <em>ah</em>. Yeah. He really was bordering on the lines of VIP pity party now.</p><p>Despite the sting building in the corner of his eyes, the churning of his gut, and the acute stinging of his chest, Sokka and Suki hugged it out, along with all that other necessary (but excruciatingly painful) mature breakup stuff. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sokka took the time to ground himself again, breathing in the afternoon spring air, his thin sweatshirt doing little to block the chill that came with it. The sound of rustling trees and the nearby thrum of a lawnmower was eventually interrupted by Sokka cracking a shit-eating grin and turning to Suki  to finally break the somber silence. </p><p>“At least I won’t have to pretend to get my ass kicked by you in all those judo matches anymore. It was really hard having to spare your feelings, you know, being my girlfriend and all.”</p><p>Suki looked up at him, still a little teary-eyed, but she still raised her brows, playfully crossing her arms over her chest. </p><p>“Oh yeah? And I’m not gonna miss having to hold back from kicking your ass too hard, you know with you having been my boyfriend and all.” </p><p>They break out into a low laughter, looking awkwardly down at their hands cupped around their paper cups of coffee. Somewhere in their following chatter, Suki punches Sokka’s shoulder, and Sokka puts on an act of crying out in pain and clutching his shoulder dramatically. The weird stares he gets from people nearby as he cries out in his over-the-top display of fake agony is well worth the genuine smile he gets from Suki. </p><p>Sokka tries to smile back. Instead he barely manages to hold back the sob threatening to escape his throat and settles for looking down at the same peeling paint job that Suki had been picking at earlier. </p><p>At least he could make her laugh. That seems to be the only thing he’s ever been really good at, the only thing he’s good <em>for</em>. </p><p>Suki leaves soon after they finish their coffees, and with that, Sokka was left feeling desperate to be anywhere but alone, because going back home to his empty house left him with nothing but that throbbing sensation of gradually-familiar loneliness. Being alone with his thoughts felt fucking suffocating. God knows he didn’t have anyone to call. He had broken up with the girl he considered his best friend (which FYI kinda makes things awkward to vent to her when she just added to his collective misery). Katara was busy with Aang until tomorrow with some group project thingy, he didn’t really wanna call his fucking <em>Dad</em> for obvious reasons, and as much as he loved Toph, they had kinda drifted due to Sokka’s busy schedule and his general grumpiness about Katara and Aang’s relationship lately, which left…</p><p>Zuko. </p><p>He immediately trashed that thought. Zuko was going through too much as is to be dealing with the shit of the one guy in Zuko’s life who was supposed to have his shit together. Zuko was supposed to be the broody guy in their weird little friendship dynamic. Not Sokka. Even if they had been friends for years now, he had always been the one to support Zuko. In fact, Sokka was the second after Aang to befriend him in their ragtag friend group. After Zuko’s weird rivalry with Aang back in high school (which was more one-sided obsession on Zuko’s part to distract from how inferior he felt to Aang’s academic achievements—he had admitted that to Sokka solemnly while hanging out watching Sunday morning cartoons). Sokka noticed the guy didn’t really have any friends to speak of at the time, and him being the secret soft-hearted idiot he is, ended up getting overly attached to Zuko.</p><p>Sokka still didn’t want to have to watch the emotionally stunted guy navigate his way around Sokka’s little meltdown. </p><p>Which is why, as of right now, he is sitting in the cafe across the street. Which also happens to be the one where him and the former, thought-to-be love of his life would regularly attend. Sokka’s taste in establishments that would nurture his fragile emotional-stability was quite exquisite, if he does say so himself.</p><p>Wow, he feels fucking horrible. Sokka’s never been physically hit by a train, but at this point he feels like he has. An emotional train, that is. Maybe not a physical train. Not yet. Never say never, especially after how today has been going.</p><p>He feels even more horrible after breaking down and crying in front of the cafe cashier who only asked how his day was going. Sokka was so mortified all he could do was stutter out his order and hastily wave off their concerned stare while paying for his overpriced spicy chai latte. He ended up just emptying the rest of his wallet into the tip jar in hopes of paying for potential emotional distress he caused. He’s watched grown men cry in front of him at work over small things, like the guy who cried over the removal of their seasonal salads—but never over <em>basic employee etiquette</em>. </p><p>That leaves Sokka where he is now, in the corner booth of shame—as he’s dubbed it—in the Fire Nation Cafe. The place is all sleek black and lush red colors. There’s subtle gold accents lining the leather booth chairs and light red tables. The lights always seem to give off a warm fire-like glow. Everything about the place is refined, orderly, and always smelled strongly of caramel and coffee. The staff aren’t overly friendly, much more mechanical and grumbly than anything. Nonetheless, Suki and him adored the place because of the tacky flame-like wallpaper plastered on one of the walls. Sokka vehemently insisted that it was the same exact flame design as Guy Fieri’s iconic polo shirt. Which, yes, turned out to be true because Sokka is an observational genius. </p><p>They had laughed so hard that the memory alone secured this place as a favorite for them. </p><p>Presently, all Sokka can do is stare teary-eyed at the tacky fiery wallpaper. His hooded head eventually slumped against the cool surface of the table. The blistering heat of his coffee against the palms of his hands is the only assurance that he’s still semi-human, and not the pile of garbage he feels like. </p><p>Sokka literally doesn’t think that he’s ever had a day this bad since his mom died when he was nine. Oh shit, now he’s thinking about his dead mom. Now he’s crying <em>again</em>. He hasn’t cried this much since his mom died. Oh God, oh fuck, he’s thinking about the very-dead-mom-stuff again. He’s unimaginably bad at this emotional stability thing. He could just stop being a public nuisance and go cry in his car like a normal human being, but he just desperately wanted to feel the presence of people, so he compromises to keep his head down. His tears lamely rolling down his cheeks. He hopes that his isolated spot kept him from being too much of an attraction. </p><p>Melting and disappearing into the cracks in the floorboards sounds like bliss. Just when he feels like he might, he hears it.</p><p>
  <em>Tap, tap.</em>
</p><p>Sokka stirs a bit but pays it no mind.</p><p>A minute passes by of Sokka sniffling, and then again, this time someone knocks against the table two more times, undoubtedly trying again to get his attention.</p><p>
  <em>Knock, knock.</em>
</p><p>Ugh. It must be the cashier. Can’t a man be an emotionally unstable, public nuisance in a respected establishment in peace? Sokka grumbles out a response, forehead still glued to the table.</p><p>“Listen, I’m sorry I cried in front of you, but you really gotta get over the whole toxic masculinity thing of not letting guys cry. Men cry too, bro.” Sokka tries to make it come off as humorous, but it’s more half-hearted than anything.</p><p>There’s silence, and then a hesitant voice speaks up.</p><p>“Uhhh, Sokka?”</p><p>Sokka lifts his head up, his vision a little blurry from crying. He’s able to muster the energy to sit back and rub at his eyes grumpily to see who’s disturbing him.</p><p>He stops abruptly, because of all people, fucking <em>Zuko</em> is standing there looking wide-eyed at him, and it dawns on on Sokka how terrible and pathetic he must look right now. </p><p>Zuko seems at a loss for words. Sokka offers him a sad smile while grossly rubbing at the snot dripping from his nose—it’s not his fault he’s an ugly crier. </p><p>“Hey, Zuko.”</p><p> It’s all he can muster, and he’s so scared. He’s so scared that Zuko is gonna turn away in discomfort and disgust, because Sokka isn’t supposed to be the sad guy. He’s the funny guy who’s always obnoxiously confident, and teases Zuko for everything. He’s not supposed to be the vulnerable, brooding one. That was Zuko's thing. Sokka doesn’t know why letting Zuko see him in his current state is making his gut wrench the way it is. He whines to Katara all the time. Maybe the discomfort part is because it’s just never to this extent of vulnerability with her. </p><p>Zuko has this incredulous look on his face, his good eye is blown a little wide and his whole posture seems to be stiff with worry, hand still lingering in a fist on the table from where he had knocked. Sokka can’t stand it. He feels horrible for letting Zuko see him like this.</p><p>“Uhh, it isn’t what it looks like?” Sokka shifts in his seat, uncomfortable under Zuko’s worried gaze. “How… how did you know I was here?” </p><p>Zuko’s gaze falls to the definite tear tracks staining Sokka’s cheeks. Curse the well-lit cafe for reflecting off of his criminally-clear skin. Sokka's pained smile falls a little and he’s sure he just looks constipated now. </p><p>Zuko pulls his hand away from the table to scratch at his neck. “My, uh, my ex? Mai? You know of her, she works here and she texted me… and yeah. Sokka, are you okay?” </p><p>Sokka is not okay. He had come to this conclusion earlier when he started crying in front of the cashier, which he really hopes was not Mai, because that means that he cried in front of Zuko’s ex-girlfriend. Which freaks him out less than it should, but Sokka is already so wrecked, and his brain is still in processing mode trying to keep up with everything that’s happened. Sokka averts his eyes from Zuko’s and quickly scoots out of the booth.  </p><p>“Yeah! Yeah I’m great,” He ugly snorts to get the escaping snot back into his nose as he stands. </p><p>“I am so great, I was actually just about to leave and go on a walk. Gotta get those steps in. Sorry to bother. You know, allergies and all. Gotta hate them. No biggie.” Sokka sounds a little desperate and nervous when he finally does speak, but he feels like a deer trapped in headlights. Zuko just keeps looking at him a little taken aback before his face contorts into something more serious, mouth a little open like he’s about to say something. Before he can, Sokka is already mouthing a breathy <em>“see ya later”</em> as he passes Zuko, making a beeline for the cafe door. He thinks he hears Zuko say his name, but it’s smothered by an abrupt chime from Sokka tugging the cafe door open. </p><p>He doesn’t bother to look back, and steps into the cold. The sky above him is grey, clouds looming heavy and dark. And, of course, it’s going to rain on top of everything else too. Sokka usually loved the rain, but right now he’s a few blocks away from the parking lot where he parked his rundown 1988 Honda Civic —more lovingly referred to as Carry—and the last thing he wants right now is to get drenched and catch a cold. </p><p>Sokka breaks into a jog as he runs around the first block, second block, third block. There’s barely anybody around, probably retiring indoors as soon as they saw the angry grey clouds crowd the sky. He keeps thinking about Zuko’s face, how concerned he looked, and Sokka is mentally kicking himself for forgetting Mai worked at the cafe. He didn’t think she’d be the type to snitch. </p><p>Sokka didn’t think Zuko would have actually cared enough to come. </p><p>Sokka’s already shaking off that thought (his self-deprecation was getting out of hand today), finally approaching his car in the nearly emptied out parking lot. He sighs a breath of relief, sticking his hand in his pocket to grab his keys to unlock the car, and he’s just grateful at this point that he got to Carry before it started to pour. See? Sokka could be optimistic—</p><p><em>Holy shit, where are his keys?</em> </p><p>At this point, a yell of frustration rips itself from Sokka’s throat, and he’s practically pulling his joggers down with how aggressively he’s shoveling his hand through his pockets searching for them. <em>You have got to be kidding me, there’s no fucking way.</em> He begins to frantically swivel his head every which way to see if he dropped them on the ground nearby, when he sees his keys, in all their glory—</p><p>
  <em>On the inside of his fucking car.</em>
</p><p>The scream of frustration that erupts from his throat this time is guttural, his hands have knocked his hoodie off his head and are scraping aggressively against his scalp. He can’t believe that on top of all the shit that happened today, he managed to lock himself out of his own car. Today has gone from bad to comically horrific. Is this a soap drama? Or hell? Or are those the same thing? Did he die and go to hell? Did him and that racist prick he spilled the milk-shake on get into a fight? Was he actually dead after being strangled to death by a sticky and homicidal racist on a grimy fast-food floor? </p><p>Things go a little blank after that. Sokka remembers trying to yell again but it comes out as a sob, then another, and he kicks Carry. He sobs harder because <em>he kicked Carry, man that’s so fucked up, also ow.</em> Somewhere in between all that it starts raining. When Sokka doesn’t have the energy to fight anymore, soggy and head in hands, he slinks against the side of his car. Maybe he should just give up. Just sit here and let the rain float his body into the sewers.</p><p>To compromise, Sokka instead decides to pick up his phone, and everything in him is screaming to do the rational thing and call a locksmith or a tow truck, but he’s so exhausted. He just wants to go home. <em>Even if it means being alone.</em> He just wants to forget today ever happened. <em>He just wants to forget how helpless he feels.</em> Sokka thuds his head against the driver seat door of his ancient Honda Civic, and fuck, he doesn’t have anything left in him to properly handle this situation right now. He could care less about Carry —sorry Carry—, he just wanted to go home. </p><p>So he doesn’t do the rational thing, instead he calls Zuko. </p><p>He's already nearby, so he's the obvious choice to call. It’s hard trying to get press in his pass code on the wet phone screen, and navigating his shaky fingers to call Zuko (his contact isn’t hard to find—it’s the only name that has an ungodly amount of fire emojis following it). Despite the wetness and shaky fingers, he succeeds in pressing the call button. Hesitantly, he brings the phone up to his ear, tucking his soaked air behind it. </p><p>
  <em>Wait, what if he doesn't pick up? Sokka had really made a fool of himself back there and—</em>
</p><p>The phone barely rings before there’s a loud click on the other side, and Zuko’s raspy voice is already flooding into his ear.</p><p>“Sokka? Why did you leave suddenly? Where the hell are you? It’s raining, you idiot!” His voice comes through more high-pitched than usual, and Sokka swears he can hear him breathing harder than normal. Zuko’s about to start saying something else when Sokka cuts him off with a sharp intake of breath. There’s silence for a minute or two—Zuko was undoubtedly feeling the tension—before Sokka breathes out and replies.</p><p>“Hey, man.” Sokka hates how his voice cracks. “I’m sorry about being all weird. I just…” He lets out an unintentional choked hiccup. Great way to play it cool, Sokka. “Mm’ not having a good day, allergies and all.”  </p><p>Water is dripping from his hair and onto his face, and the thin cloth of his sweatshirt is beginning to stick to him from the rain. The only thing he hears is Zuko’s breathing on the other end. Sokka just listens, using it to steady his own. </p><p>“Sokka?” Zuko’s voice sounds more careful now. It’s not as frantic, more low and questioning in that rare soft tone that Sokka doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to.</p><p>“Could you…” Sokka’s voice is barely above a murmur, “could you come pick me up?” He’s looking dazed at his legs splayed out in front of him, watching the rain slide off of his sneakers.</p><p>“Where are you?” Zuko says sternly.</p><p>Sokka quietly gives the directions to where he is. He’s barely finished before Zuko hangs up, saying he’ll be there as soon as possible. Sokka sniffs lamely, and decides to look up at the clouded-over sky. Maybe he should scream at it. Zuko had admitted to having screamed at the sky during a thunderstorm before and told Sokka it had been strangely cathartic. Back then Sokka had teased and scolded him for it, but now he was starting to see the appeal. He closes his eyes, just feeling the rain roll off his face. It would be a more pleasant feeling if it weren’t for him freezing in soaked-through clothing. </p><p>Soon enough he hears a car pull into the nearly empty parking lot, and as tempted as it is to stay put and brood more, Zuko being any more inconvenienced by his little breakdown would make Sokka feel worse than he already does. 

Sokka opens his eyes and stands up just as he hears the rumbling of Zuko’s engine flicker off. Zuko’s already scrambling out of his dingy 1995 red Ford pick-up truck before Sokka can approach the car. He hears the slam of the door and Zuko bounds around his truck to where Sokka is. His face has an indescribable expression on it, his chest heaving irregularly. </p><p>“You dumbass, why are you just sitting out in the rain?!” His voice is laced with subtle irritation as he approaches Sokka, but upon closer inspection of Sokka’s state his face drops to something softer again. Zuko looks just as soaked through as Sokka, his black t-shirt practically plastered against his chest. Before Sokka can say anything about it, Zuko is already wrapping his hand around Sokka’s wrist and pulling him in the direction of the truck, opening the door for Sokka and letting his wrist go just as quickly as he latched onto it. The heat of Zuko’s hand lingers even as he lets go.</p><p>“Let’s get in the truck, it’s not going to do either of us any good if we stand out here.” </p><p>Sokka nods, opening the truck door and hopping into the passenger seat. The truck rocks a bit as he pulls himself up. Zuko’s already at his side in minutes, he starts the engine to get the heater going, and turns to shuffle through the back seat. After a while of digging, he faces back towards Sokka with blanket in hand, tossing it gently onto his lap, and something shifts in Sokka when he realizes it’s one of those gaudy wolf-print ones. It’s enough to make the corner of his mouth twitch a bit upwards, shifting his downward gaze to meet Zuko’s.</p><p>Zuko huffs and buckles in, muttering, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”</p><p>Sokka doesn’t say anything. He does however, grin as he wraps the tacky blanket around his drenched frame—after buckling in too, of course. The truck’s heater finally begins to warm up and Sokka leans in eagerly, shivering. </p><p>“So… what happened?”</p><p>Sokka laughs bitterly. “The real question is what <em>didn’t</em> happen.”</p><p>Zuko thinks hard for a few minutes.“Well, if it’s okay with you, can you at least tell me what happened to your car?” </p><p>Sokka can feel Zuko’s eyes exploring the profile of his face. Sokka rests his head on the dashboard and faces Zuko.  </p><p>“It’s a tragic tale, really. I locked my keys in the car.”</p><p>“Did you call anyone or anything?” </p><p>“No, I just—I’m in a shitty mood, okay? And I didn’t want to have to deal with anything else. I’m exhausted, and I just wanted to go home so…”</p><p>“So you called me.”</p><p>Sokka looks up at Zuko, watching as a droplet of rain rolls lazily down the side of his forehead where the scarred tissue of his skin is thick, and falls into his eyelashes, resting there. When he turns to look at Sokka, it drips down onto his cheek. </p><p>“Yeah,” Sokka murmurs and diverts his gaze back down to his hands. “Yeah, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. I know it wasn’t cool of me to just call you out like that and—”</p><p>“Sokka,” Zuko interrupts. “It’s ok, you’re not bothering me. I’m not here out of like, obligation or anything.” He lowers his voice. “What kind of friend would I be if I left you there?”</p><p>Sokka’s breath catches. His eyes sting a little, trying to hold back tears. He doesn’t know why Zuko saying that is affecting him so much, but some of the ache that’s been building in his chest is relieved. </p><p>“Thanks, Sifu Hotman.”</p><p>Zuko grumbles, and backs up, driving out of the parking lot and back onto the road to Sokka’s house.</p><p>“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”</p><p>Sokka smirks. “Never.”</p><p>Zuko sighs, and a comfortable silence follows. The rain tapping against the roof of the car and the mechanical rhythm of the windshield wipers start to make Sokka’s eyelids heavy with sleep. Just when he thinks he might doze off, Zuko starts getting shifty in his seat. Maybe he’s unsettled at how quiet Sokka is being? Sokka’s <em>exhausted</em>, he doesn’t think he could crack a joke if he wanted to right now. There’s a pang of guilt in his chest for bringing Zuko into all of this, and even with his earlier assurance, it still doesn’t erase the fact that Zuko had dropped his whole day to drag Sokka’s mopey ass home.</p><p>They’re getting closer to the house now, and Zuko seems more restless by the minute. He keeps glancing over in Sokka’s direction and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. Just when Sokka is about to mention it, he finally speaks up.</p><p>“If—if there’s anything you need to talk about, you can talk to me.” Zuko bites worriedly at his bottom lip. “It’s not like you haven’t done the same for me a hundred times before.”</p><p>Sokka is hella vulnerable right now, and Zuko isn’t one to be excessive with the nice-stuff, so <em>of course Sokka</em> starts crying again. The tears sting the corner of his eyes and it feels like he’s trying to swallow a rock. He quickly brings his palms up to dig into his eyes. At that exact moment, Zuko looks over and his face immediately goes pale.</p><p>Tears are streaming down Sokka’s face. </p><p>“I’m fine! I’m not crying or anything! It’s just, your sunroof must be open or something and the rain getting all over my face!”</p><p>“Sokka, I don’t <em>have</em> a sunroof.” </p><p>Sokka’s palms dig deeper into his eyes, and he’s never been more relieved to hear the silent <em>thump</em> of the car pulling into his driveway. He hears the stutter of the engine as it shuts off, but neither of them make a move to leave. </p><p>Sokka inhales sharply. Fuck it.</p><p>“I got fired from my job.”</p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>“And Suki broke up with me.”</p><p>
  <em>“Oh.”</em>
</p><p>“And I probably cried in front of your ex-girlfriend.” Sokka squeezes his knees to his chest, despite the buckled seat belt digging into his stomach. His voice is barely above a whisper now, and Sokka can feel the salty taste of tears on his tongue. </p><p>“You were basically there for everything after that.” Sokka feels the tension in his shoulders drop a bit at venting some of his troubles to Zuko. He still feels like shit though. </p><p>“That’s—shit, that’s rough, buddy. I’m sorry.” Zuko hesitantly leans in as if to wrap an arm around him, but quickly pulls back, settling on placing a comforting hand on Sokka’s back. He’d be lying if he said that the touch didn’t make his brain short-circuit for a second.</p><p>His hand is so warm—despite having just been out in the rain—that it bleeds through the damp fabric of the blanket still wrapped around him. </p><p><em>He’s like the human embodiment of heat.</em> </p><p>Sokka’s shivering, and offers a delayed nod of acknowledgement to Zuko. He’s a little distracted by the way Zuko is looking at him. There’s something about the way his amber eyes pierce into him that make Sokka want to curl in on himself. </p><p>“You should go inside and get warmed up....” Zuko retracts his hand, the warmth going with it. He looks hesitant, like he doesn’t quite want Sokka to leave (and maybe Sokka doesn’t really want to leave him, either), but he takes Zuko’s remark as a hint for him to leave, he begins to unfurl from the blanket when—</p><p>“You can ask for things too!” Zuko blurts out, stopping Sokka in his place. </p><p>Sokka’s eyes go a little wide. “What?” </p><p>“It’s just—you told me one time, that I could ask for things,” Zuko looks desperate, if a little frustrated with himself. “You always tell me that I can ask for things and—shit, okay—you can ask for things too.” </p><p>Sokka just stares as Zuko chews on his bottom lip before he continues, in a hushed tone.</p><p>“You can ask me for anything, Sokka.”</p><p>It sounded so intimate that he wonders if Zuko had meant to say that last part out loud. Sokka just looks dumbly at Zuko before the message to what he was trying to say finally registers in his brain. <em>He could ask for things?</em> What? Don’t get him wrong, Sokka’s not totally emotionally-inept, he did know he had the ability, yes—but he guessed it never registered that it was an option for him. He was the good ol’ reliable plans guy. The one people came to for a good laugh. The concept of asking for things, to ask for help, and being emotionally vulnerable (past his usual shallow pouting and whining)... was anyone willing to actually put up with those things from Sokka? Even Suki hadn’t reached that level with him. </p><p>But here Zuko was, sitting across from him shifting uncomfortable in the wet worn-out leather of his car seats after chasing Sokka in the rain like they were in one of those soap-dramas that his Gran-Gran always watched, looking at Sokka in earnest anticipation. It was all he needed to reach his conclusion.</p><p>“Well, it’s stupid—“</p><p>Zuko interrupts him again with a huff.</p><p>“Fiiine, fine. Not stupid.” Zuko seems satisfied at that. Sokka’s throat goes a little dry and he has to swallow before he can force the next part out. “Could you stay with me for a while?” He hates the acute feeling of vulnerability when he finally says it, but Zuko is already nodding and unbuckling his seatbelt. He looks at Sokka, speaking in a confident tone— </p><p>“Are you coming?”</p><p> </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>Sokka didn’t think he was a simple man, but Zuko being here had considerably raised his spirits. Don’t get him wrong, he still feels like eating-three-entire-bags-of-gummy-worms level shit, but at least Zuko had convinced him into changing into warm clothes. Now they were both huddled up on opposite sides of Sokka’s cramped living-room couch, legs and blankets splayed all over one another, hot chocolate in hand (complimentary of Zuko and his years of experience watching Sokka dig out hot chocolate for Zuko-comfort-reasons). 

Zuko had his head perched in his hand, mindlessly clicking through the TV channels in Sokka’s old 2Pac shirt while Sokka just stared at the profile of his face. </p><p>
  <em>When was the last time he had even spent any quality time with anyone?</em>
</p><p>Zuko turns to ask him a question, but Sokka’s so zoned out, all he processes is the bit of hot chocolate stained at the corner of Zuko’s mouth. </p><p>Sokka briefly thinks about bringing his thumb to Zuko’s mouth to rub it off.</p><p>Sokka interrupts the thought almost immediately—<em>Shit, yeah. It had been too long since he had hung out with anyone.</em></p><p>“Uh, sorry dude. What was that?” Sokka drags his eyes from the corner of Zuko’s lip to finally meet his eyes again.</p><p>“I was just asking what you wanted to watch—What, is there something on my face?” Zuko self-consciously brings the back of his hand to rub at the remaining hot chocolate. </p><p>“Oh, yeah. You got it though.” Sokka flushes at being found out. He hadn’t exactly been subtle about it, but alas, he still had an ounce of shame left in him to draw his attention back to the TV. “Also I’m fine with whatever you want to watch.”</p><p>Zuko lands on a random channel—which tragically happens to be Guy Fieri’s, <em>Drivers, Dine-Ins, and Dives</em> and he’s reminded of Suki again—and turns the volume down to a low murmur. The remote lands on the coffee table in front of them with a soft <em>thump</em>.</p><p>“The fact you didn’t use this opportunity to finally get me to watch the Fast and Furious movies with you is seriously distressing,” Zuko shifts in his spot to face Sokka more, “I mean, you practically carry the DVDs around with you.” </p><p>Sokka smirks, “Oh? Are you saying I should go get them?” </p><p>Zuko immediately shakes his head. “Absolutely not, forget I said anything.”</p><p>Sokka sets his hot chocolate to the side, “I’ll spare you this once, but you’re gonna love it. There’s, like, a bunch of cars and they go fast.”</p><p>Zuko rolls his eyes, “Wow. Thrilling. I never would have guessed based off of the title of the movie. Maybe I’ll give it a chance now.”</p><p>Sokka hums in acknowledgement as he turns just in time to watch Guy Fieri take an obnoxiously large bite out of a burger. Zuko’s foot bumps against Sokka’s side to get his attention again.</p><p>“Hey…” Zuko starts, “you know how you listen to me vent about my dad?” Sokka nods slowly. “That helps me, you know, feel less shitty.” </p><p>Sokka lets his head fall to rest against the armrest of the couch, taking a deep breath. </p><p>“I don’t really know where to start.”</p><p>“Just… start with today then?” </p><p>Sokka would normally just brush off the offer, but he feels like he might further implode in on himself if he continues to keep everything to himself. He slowly begins to recount his day off to Zuko.</p><p>“I don’t know how to describe it. Yeah, today was pretty much the definition of soul-crushing, but… there’s been other stuff that’s been on my mind too. I guess it just all piled up.” Zuko nods along, probably to signal that he’s still listening. “Everything has been kinda downhill since we graduated. It was kinda stupid of me to think that things wouldn’t change. That the gang would all still be hanging out and everything would be the same? That I’d at least get another year or two with everyone before I’d really have to start worrying about the thought of all of us going our separate ways?” Sokka grits his teeth.

 “—And I’m not saying that to tie anyone down to me, or that I feel entitled to your guys’ attention, but I guess I’m bitter. I’m bitter because despite being self-aware about all of that, I’m <em>still</em> lonely, Zuko.” He barely chokes out that last part, before feeling the acute stinging sensation of tears building behind his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today. “Today was hell, and I realized that I couldn’t call anyone to talk with it about. Maybe I’m just doomed to be nothing but the reliable, funny guy forever and today was just the wake-up call for that.”</p><p>He shuts his eyes tight, letting out a hoarse laugh. “Shit, sorry. I’m being kinda childish, right?” </p><p>There’s a long pause of silence. Sokka’s starting to see a trend today, but he did just basically dump out a year's worth of growing insecurities on the guy. He wouldn’t blame Zuko if he just wordlessly turned up the volume on the TV and they never spoke of this again.</p><p>He opens his eyes again, just letting his eyes water as he blearily looks at the flashing lights from the TV dance across the ceiling. When Sokka finally does lift his head to look at the other, Zuko’s not turning up the volume of the TV or staring at him in discomfort. </p><p>“You're not being childish.” Zuko mutters. ”I used to think that about myself too, that I would just be some angry kid forever.”</p><p>“Used to think?” Sokka asks. </p><p>“You guys proved me otherwise, I guess.” </p><p>Sokka blinks.</p><p>“I don’t know if you noticed, but you and Aang were relentlessly outgoing and kept giving me all these chances to be friends with you guys. Kinda made me wanna puke at the time.” Despite Zuko’s words, his voice was fond. “But it made me realize that I didn’t have to be just some angry kid forever. That I wasn’t the one-dimensional kid that the people around me—that I—believed I was, or whatever.”  Zuko huffs. “Do you think I’m just some angry kid?”</p><p>Sokka doesn’t really know where Zuko’s going with him, but shakes his head. “Not at all. You were an ass, but that doesn’t mean you deserved to be defined by just your anger.”</p><p>“Then why do you think that about yourself then?” Zuko asks sternly.<br/>
Sokka’s eyes go wide as Zuko continues to stare stubbornly at him.</p><p>“That’s—But—That’s what other people think?” Sokka stutters out.</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Well no one outright I guess, but still—”</p><p>“Why give that assumption so much power then?”</p><p>Sokka hesitates and looks away. Sokka knew that people thought that way about him because he could feel it. The way everyone acted around him, talked to him, looked at him—</p><p>As if he could read Sokka’s mind, Zuko starts again, softly.</p><p>“I don’t think that about you. If it means anything.” </p><p>A bit of tension leaves Sokka’s shoulders. His mind is still a whirlwind, but Zuko being there for him and patiently listening to him vent out all his insecurities had really helped to ground him. </p><p>Sokka swallows to alleviate the dryness in his mouth. “Yeah. It does. Thank you, Zuko.”</p><p>Zuko clears his throat awkwardly, “Yeah, uh. No problem.” </p><p>They focus their attention back to the TV. Sokka feels lighter than he has in months. He can’t believe it took this long to open up. It hadn’t fixed everything, but it helped in it’s own little way.</p><p>“Thanks for being here, dude.” Sokka smiles. “Also if you think you’re going to leave here tonight, you are sorely wrong. Tonight is the night we watch all the Fast and Furious movies. Mark my words, we will be watching bald men drive cars very recklessly tonight.”</p><p>Zuko groans loudly. “I can’t believe that I’m friends with you.” </p><p>“I can. Who else is so generously willing to share their Fast and Furious DVD collection with others? Bet you can’t even name one other person.” Sokka smirks.</p><p>“Sokka, there are other reasons why people are friends with each other outside of Fast and Furious DVD collections.” </p><p>Sokka scoffs, “Then those are people I don’t want to be friends with.”</p><p>Zuko sighs exasperatingly, but fails to hide his grin. </p><p>Yeah. He was really happy he decided to be friends with Zuko. Even if today had been shitty, and Zuko was complaining about being guilt-tripped into watching some, arguably, mediocre dude-flicks over cold hot chocolate. He realized that he really didn’t mind Zuko being the one that Sokka had poured his heart out to.</p><p>Zuko rolls his eyes at one of the scenes, and starts ranting about how totally unrealistic it is to pull off <em>that kind of a drift in a public parking garage</em>. Sokka doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of seeing Zuko leaning in from his place on the couch, clearly invested, rambling to himself about the <em>impossible aero-dynamics of moving a car like that</em>. </p><p>Sokka finds himself thinking two things.</p><p>The first one being that, for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel lonely.</p><p>The second?</p><p><em>He can’t wait until</em> he sees Zuko’s reaction to the scene where the car drifts flawlessly through an entire crowd of people.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’d like to imagine that Mai just sent Zuko a text and it’s just “this yours? please come get him, he’s being a public disturbance.” and it’s a picture of Sokka in the corner booth ugly crying while facing the Guy Fieri wallpaper and zuko was just like “fuck that’s my public disturbance”</p><p>AND OK FINE I CONFESS, I’ve never watched a Fast and Furious movie in my entire life. Hence the “bald men driving fast cars” sentence. I had to literally research “Top 10 Craziest Scenes From Fast and Furious.” I didn’t even know if they DROVE CARS until I looked at a movie poster. There are so many bald guys? Is that a coincidence?? And there’s this scene where this guy straight up parkours off of a bus about to fall off of a cliff and onto a moving car?? I don’t know if I’m concerned for the film industry or intrigued??? </p><p>Also another shoutout to the “Top 10 Most Stolen Cars” list I got the ideas for Zuko and Sokka’s cars from. The only thing that rivals my ignorance of the Fast and Furious franchise is cars in general.</p><p>Thanks for reading! I love these guys. Any form of support is always greatly appreciated :) It also helps chapters come faster ;) See you next update!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. your body is a blade that cuts a path from day to day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Choo choo! Get your tickets for the Domesticity Central train ride here, folks!</p><p>TW: Brief mention of underage drinking</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s a clanging in the kitchen when Sokka manages to blink the crust from his eyes. The sun is shining brightly through the blinds and he groans. He snatches the blanket that’s strewn across his body and pulls it towards his head while turning over to avoid the sudden brightness. Upon his excessive shuffling, the noise in the kitchen stops and is replaced with the soft padding of feet coming towards him.</p><p>Sokka burrows further into the crook of the couch talking through the yawn that escapes him, “Kataraaaa I told you, I’m not taking you driving again, you nearly killed me last time.”</p><p>The voice that replies is not Katara.</p><p>“Are you gonna mistake me for someone else every time?”</p><p>Sokka lazily turns and finds Zuko standing over him, arms crossed, and shaggy hair ruffled with sleep. Dabblings of flour are painted across his cheek and Sokka’s 2Pac shirt.</p><p>Right. Him and Zuko had passed out on the couch together during their Fast and Furious binge.</p><p>“Oh, hey Zuko.” Sokka drops his head back down again and shuts his eyes. “Since you’re not Katara, I’m going back to sleep now.”</p><p>“Suit yourself then.” Zuko says, footsteps retreating back into the kitchen. The clanging noise follows soon after, and that’s when Sokka catches a waft of something sweet-smelling.</p><p>Sokka immediately sits up, and is already leaving the comfort of his living room couch to investigate the source of the smell.</p><p>His investigation leads to him finding Zuko hovering over the stove, and a hot plate of pancakes stacked next to him. Everything —except for Zuko, who still had evidence of flour smeared across his face and shirt—is almost spotless. Classic Zuko. He’d become so uptight about cleaning ever since his uncle hired him to work as a footman in his tea shop. Sokka leans against the counter next to Zuko.</p><p>“Those better have chocolate chips in them, otherwise it’s sacrilege.”</p><p>Zuko briefly looks up to acknowledge Sokka with a small grin, before turning his attention back to the stove and flipping over another pancake with a soft <em>plop</em>. “You lucked out this time. You guys didn’t have any blueberries in the fridge.”</p><p>Sokka contorts his face into a look of disgust. “I can’t believe you would take <em>fruit</em> in your pancakes before the ingenious that is mini chocolate morsels. It’s pan<em>cakes</em>, not pan<em>pies</em>, Zuko.”</p><p>Zuko shoots him a glare. “People put fruit in cake.”</p><p>“Yeah, but not whole ass <em>blueberries</em>.” Sokka replies.</p><p>Zuko just rolls his eyes and goes to turn off the stove. It’s one of those gas stoves. It was old but reliable, plus Sokka liked the clicking noises it made when he turned the dial up. It was a soothing sound after living with it for so long.</p><p>“At least I don’t eat pancakes like Aang.” Zuko snaps back.</p><p>Both of them simultaneously grimace. The image of Aang dumping an entire bottle of maple syrup over a small stack of pancakes will forever haunt the gang. For as much as that kid preached healthy living, he didn’t seem too keen on cutting back on his sugar intake.</p><p>“Touché.”</p><p>Zuko takes the plate of pancakes, plus two extras along with some utensils, and walks over to the living-room. He carefully sets them down on the coffee-table in front of the couch. Mumbling something about how cold it was.</p><p>Before he sits down, Sokka notices that the spots of flour still on Zuko’s face and shirt. Heaving a dramatic sigh, he sits next to Zuko. “Can’t believe you got flour on my 2Pac shirt after I so graciously leant it to you.”</p><p>Zuko’s eyes go wide as he looks down at his shirt to see the flour spots. “Shit. Sorry.”</p><p>Sokka smirks. “Wait until you see your face.” There’s some flour on the bridge of his nose— and Sokka has no idea how he managed to do <em>that</em>.</p><p>Zuko scowls.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?” He begins to rub the back of his hand across his cheek, “Where is it?”. Zuko reaches to rub at his nose, but it only ends in the flour being smeared further into the bottom ridges of his scar.</p><p>“Here, let me.” Sokka leans in closer to Zuko, hand mid-air. “Is it okay if I—”</p><p>At that moment a loud sound rips through the quiet. They both jump a bit, and Sokka realizes it’s his damn <em>phone</em> that’s making so much racket. He pulls back from Zuko to grab at it from its place on the table and check who’s calling.</p><p>Sokka’s eyes narrow at the familiar caller ID. Zuko must notice and take it as a cue to leave.</p><p>He quickly fumbles to his feet. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom to, uh, wash this off.” He vaguely motions to his face. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbles, already heading in the direction of the hallway.</p><p>Sokka watches him leave before looking back down at his phone. His phone has stopped ringing now, he had taken too long to pick it up. The caller ID is instead replaced with a <em>Missed Call</em> notification.</p><p>His dad called him.</p><p>There’s this sinking feeling in his stomach, and his throat goes a little dry as he stares at his lockscreen. Sokka could try calling him back but he would probably just end up saying something he’d regret. He shoots off a simple Busy text to his dad before switching off his ringer and slipping his phone face-down back onto the coffee table.</p><p>He’ll just call him back later.</p><p>The call had brought him back to reality, reminding him of how shitty yesterday had been. It unwelcomely envelopes his thoughts again. Sokka can feel himself frown, and it’s like there’s a hole where his stomach is supposed to be.</p><p>Before he can dig himself any deeper into that rabbit-hole, there’s a soft <em>click</em> of the bathroom light and the shuffling of feet as Zuko makes his way back to the couch.</p><p>The couch heaves with his weight, and he looks at Sokka, with his now-flourless face, a bit of concern in his eyes. “You okay?”</p><p>Sokka realizes he had been staring, and gulps a little too audibly. <em>Very smooth, Sokka.</em>. “Yeah! Yeah. I’m fine. My dad just called.” Sokka quickly takes in a shaky breath. “I didn’t pick up, though, so you weren’t interrupting or anything.</p><p>Zuko frowns. “Did something happen between you two..?”</p><p>“I don’t really wanna talk about it right now.” Sokka mumbles.</p><p>Zuko looks skeptical, but lets it pass. “Ok. That’s fine.”</p><p>Sokka exhales a bit, relieved that he wouldn’t be pressed further. As irresponsible as it was, he just kinda wanted a distraction right now. Fortunately enough for him, there was an entire stack of pancakes waiting to be eaten right in front of him.</p><p>Zuko grabs the two extra plates and sets one in front of Sokka. “We should eat before it gets cold— hey!” Zuko swats at Sokka‘s hand that had been cheekily reaching for Zuko’s pancake. “Get your own pancake.”</p><p>“That one has the most chocolate chips in it! I thought you didn’t even like chocolate-chip pancakes.” Sokka whines.</p><p>Zuko shrugs. “Blueberry pancakes are only a preference.”</p><p>Sokka looks at him scandalously, scrunching his nose. “You snake! This was all part of your plan to let my guard down!”</p><p>“Maybe so. Still believe in the sanctity of blueberry pancakes though.” Zuko smirks before taking a large bite out of his pancake.</p><p>Sokka’s never felt more betrayed.</p><p>Jokes on Zuko though, because he has to put up with Sokka petty-pout until Zuko begrudgingly gives in and lets him have the pancake with the <em>second</em> most chocolate chips in it.</p><p>Zuko huffs. “You’re an ass.”</p><p>Sokka all but grins as he smears the remaining butter onto the pancake and pops it into his mouth.</p><p>-------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong><em>Sokka</em>: </strong>
  <em>who knew sitting in the rain for 30 mins would lead 2 a cold????</em>
</p><p><b><em>Zuko🔥🔥🔥:</em></b> <em>I can’t believe you have the immune system of an anime character.</em></p><p>
  <strong><em>Sokka</em>: </strong>
  <em>hey!! ur being rlly mean to someone who’s dyin rn</em>
</p><p>
  <strong><em>Zuko🔥🔥🔥</em>: </strong>
  <em>My previous statement remains.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong><em>Zuko</em>🔥🔥🔥: </strong>
  <em>Do you need me to stop by and bring you anything?</em>
</p><p><em><strong>Sokka:</strong></em> <em>nah, katara has got me covered. she loves listening to my every beck and call.</em></p><p><em><strong>Zuko🔥🔥🔥:</strong></em> <em>I feel bad…</em></p><p><em><strong>Zuko🔥🔥🔥:</strong></em> <em>for Katara.</em></p><p><em><strong>Sokka:</strong></em> <em>gasp!! dont pity her! im the sick one here!</em></p><p> </p><p>After Sokka had opened up to him during his meltdown, Zuko and him had gotten significantly closer. Sokka had come down with a cold for a few days, so they couldn’t really see each other, but that did not stop them from constantly texting each other. It was glaringly obvious that something had changed in their relationship after Sokka had opened up to him. All the events that had happened made Sokka feel so helpless, and there Zuko had been, all ready to help. It had served as a catalyst for the development of their relationship.</p><p>They had been close before, but it was mainly limited to Sokka dragging Zuko to see some new movie, or their more personal conversations after gang game nights where they’d get into his dad’s liquor cabinet and-- with moderation-- drink as Zuko spilled the details about his rough childhood on his kitchen floor.</p><p>He really liked those nights.</p><p>The gang hadn’t had a game night since high school. They were always <em>fun</em>, but he’d always found himself eager for the eventual tipsy sleepovers between Zuko and him (Zuko always seemed lighter after them).</p><p>He still kinda missed them.</p><p>That’s how, as soon as he got better, he found himself barreling into the Jasmine Dragon during Zuko’s shift, running on his reminiscing-high, lifting himself dramatically onto the front counter where Zuko was diligently scrubbing.</p><p>“Come over tonight.”</p><p>Zuko looks up and frowns. “I just cleaned that counter.”</p><p>“I’m telling you Zuko, I don’t think I can handle watching anymore of the 2017 British Bake Off season. I’m so pissed they booted Liam but kept Stacey. That kid was a prodigy and Stacey served them baking paper stuck to the bottom of her cake, Zuko. Baking paper.” He laments. “I need someone to witness this shitshow with.”</p><p>“I see you’re feeling better?” Is Zuko’s only contribution.</p><p>“I’m great,” Sokka waves him off nonchalantly. “I told you that the cold I came down with was nothing. Plus, I was able to guiltlessly binge-watch almost all The Great British Bake Off seasons.”</p><p>Zuko blinks, before sighing. “Yes, I know. You sent me your extensive commentary on it.”</p><p>“Exactly! Now that you’re invested, you should come over and watch the rest of the season with me. I’ll even help you close up shop.”</p><p>“Well I was going to go either way, but now that you offered…” Zuko walks to the corner where a broom is propped up against a wall, grabs it, and walks over to press it into Sokka’s chest. “No one’s here, so I’m closing early. You’re on dishes after sweeping.” He smirks.</p><p>Sokka groans, but is already making his way across the room to start his work.</p><p>Zuko’s taking inventory in the back before he comes back out to start emptying the pastry display. Sokka’s already made his way to the front by the time he finishes.</p><p>They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Zuko clears his throat and starts talking.</p><p>“So…”</p><p>Sokka turns to cock an eyebrow at him.</p><p>“Soooo…?”</p><p>“Are you sure you’re okay…. with, you know, everything that happened?”</p><p>Sokka’s shoulders stiffen and his sweeping comes to a stutter at the question, before continuing again. “Yeah. For sure.” He forces out.</p><p>“Sokka.” Zuko says. “There’s no way you are.”</p><p>“Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?”</p><p>“Yes.” Zuko blandly responds.</p><p>Sokka sighs.</p><p>“I don’t really know, honestly. I haven’t had the time to think about it being deliriously sick with a fever for the past few days.”</p><p>Zuko nods.</p><p>“When I was feeling better last night, I just kind of… got scared and shut it all out again by distracting myself.” Sokka fiddles with the broom as he tries to prop it back up against the spot where Zuko grabbed it from. “Surprisingly, I think the whole lack of support throughout all of it hit me the hardest.”</p><p>“Not the breakup with Suki…?” Zuko mutters, before quickly stiffening up. “Sorry, that-- I didn’t mean to say that.”</p><p>“No, I get it.” He replies, and the tension in Zuko’s shoulders seems to loosen. “As awful as it sounds, I was kind of expecting it for a while. We would barely see each other, much less go out on dates.” Sokka scratches at the back of his neck, leaning against a spot on the counter near Zuko. “Looking back at it now, I guess it was more painful waiting for the breakup than anything. It wasn’t the best situation.”</p><p>Zuko’s eyebrow furrows as he thinks about what to say before focusing his attention back onto Sokka. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Sokka. You shouldn’t have had to deal with those feelings alone.”</p><p>A lump in Sokka’s throat appears, and he has to swallow before he can talk again. “Thanks.”</p><p>Zuko looks hesitant, but slowly begins to speak. “It was the same with me and Mai.”</p><p>“You guys broke up back in high school, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, it was before I’d gotten close with you guys. We ended on good terms, but we were always just friends. It was kinda the same...waiting feeling.” Zuko further leans against the counter. “We were just waiting until one of us finally mentioned it, I guess.”</p><p>Sokka nods thoughtfully. “That’s rough, buddy.”</p><p>Zuko snorts, and playfully kicks at Sokka’s shins. “Wow, thanks. Now go do the dishes.”</p><p>“Noooooooooooo--” Sokka whines. “ I thought my tragic sob-story would guilt you into doing them for me.” Despite his tone, he’s grinning cheekily. “Can’t believe you’re making a sick person do the dishes.”</p><p>“What!” Zuko exclaims. “You’re the one who offered to help in the first place-- and you’re not even sick anymore.”</p><p>“The cruelty!”</p><p>“You’re being ridiculous.”</p><p>Sokka sticks his tongue out at him and laughs, before getting kicked a little harder in the shins. “Ow! You monster!”</p><p>Zuko crosses his arms over his chest. “Yes, I’m a monster. And this monster says it’s time to do the dishes.”</p><p>Sokka sighs in defeat, and heads in the direction of the kitchen before Zuko can say anything else. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be out in a bit.”</p><p>They start to lock up shortly after Sokka finishes with the dishes. Zuko fiddles with the shop alarm, and then they both shuffle out the door into the chilly evening air.</p><p>“You know, I never knew a tea shop would do so well.” Sokka says, admiring the golden dragon logo plastered on the window.</p><p>Zuko finishes locking the front door and turns to face him, shoving his hands into his denim jacket to avoid the nipping cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>He shrugs, the shifting fabric of his jacket rubbing against his shirt melds into the far off white-noise of cars rushing past. “Nothing bad. I’ve just never seen a beverage place that didn’t revolve around the very existence of sugar.”</p><p>Zuko shifts his weight onto one foot and then the other, clearly in thought. “Well, it wasn’t easy at first for Uncle, business was slow. Aang suggested we try out adding boba to our teas and it ended up working out really well— we’re more busy now.”</p><p>Sokka snorts and walks over with Zuko to his retrieved Honda Civic (Sokka would <em>never</em> forget about Carry, thank you very much). “So sugar did end up saving the day?”</p><p>Zuko stops to lean against Carry and opens his mouth to say something, nose scrunching up, before his face settles into something more pensive. “Ok, maybe a little— Don’t tell uncle, he’ll be crushed.”</p><p>Sokka pinches his fingers and drags them across his lips in a zipper-like motion. “My lips are sealed. I’ll save him from the truth.”</p><p>It’s getting later, and the fluorescent parking-lot lights towering over them flicker on as the sun sets lower into the pink-hued dusk sky. They’re both leaned up against the hood of Sokka’s car staring out at the barren concrete of the plaza. It’s nice. It’s chilly tonight, but it’s a pleasant chill that makes him appreciate the warmth of his jacket. There’s a sound next to him as Zuko moves to roll his shoulders back, there’s a definite crack of his back as he leans back to stretch. Zuko lets out a low grunt.</p><p>“Has it been really busy?” Sokka says distracted, his attention more focused watching the strain of Zuko’s adam-apple against skin as he leans his head farther and farther to the side until there’s a satisfying <em>crack</em>.</p><p>Zuko lets out a satisfied noise as he rolls his head back into place, and Sokka’s mouth gets mysteriously dry as he watches his friend’s hair fall back onto his neck.</p><p>“Yeah, it has. Uncle and I have been talking recently and it’s only me and him right now. We’re thinking about hiring an extra person to help with the rush hours.”</p><p>Sokka tears his gaze away from Zuko finally and hums, thinking for a second. His eyes go wide and his face is hardly containing his smile as he hops onto the concrete parking bumper in front of the car, whirling around to face a surprised Zuko (and it’s absolutely criminal how the glow of the sunset catches his amber eyes).</p><p>“Zuko. Look at me.” He throws his hand up and motions to himself. “Aren’t I hireable material?”</p><p>Zuko’s surprised expression falls into one of gentle consideration. “You?” He says, cocking his eyebrow.</p><p>Sokka nods.</p><p>Zuko stares harder.</p><p>Sokka sweats.</p><p>Zuko looks him up and down.<br/><em>Did he say something wrong???</em></p><p>Zuko lets out a low hum, shaking his head to himself.</p><p>“Uhhh, Zuko? Dude? You’re killing me.”</p><p>Zuko finally drags his gaze up to look Sokka in the eyes.</p><p>“Well…”</p><p>Sokka leans in.</p><p>Zuko’s intense expression shifts into a lop-sided grin and he leans back against the car hood again. “I’m yanking your chain. You’re here all the time anyway.”</p><p>Sokka perks up. “Does that mean I got the job?”</p><p>“Welcome to the team.”</p><p>Sokka fist bumps the air and almost loses his balance. “Hell yeah! That was the weirdest interview I’ve ever had, and someone once asked me to take off my shirt.”</p><p>Zuko looks at him dumbstruck. “Wait, what kind of job requires you to take off your shirt for an interview?”</p><p>“Taco Bell.”</p><p>Zuko blinks incredulously at him. “Sokka, for someone going to one of the top engineering universities in the country, you’re surprisingly dense.”</p><p>“Hey!” Sokka shouts, jumping back down to knock shoulders with Zuko. “That’s rude. Of course I knew it wasn’t the typical Taco Bell interview protocol.”</p><p>“Then did you take your shirt off?” Zuko asks, exasperated.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You should probably report them-- wait you <em>what?</em>”. Zuko eyebrows knit together so much Sokka thinks they might become one big eyebrow. A unibrow, if you will. “Why would you actually do it??”</p><p>Sokka shrugs. “The interview guy was cute.”</p><p>Zuko drags his hand down the unscarred side of his face and groans. “You know what? I’m unhiring you.”</p><p>Sokka gasps, clutching at his heart. “No! You can’t unhire me. That’s not how it works, Zuko!”</p><p>“Watch me.” Zuko retorts.</p><p>“Are you just jealous? Do I need to take off my shirt to get rehired??” He’s already whipping his jacket off and throwing it to the ground, reaching to bring his t-shirt half way over his torso before Zuko’s hands flail out to grab Sokka’s biceps.</p><p>“Stop! Oh my god, Sokka. We’re in public!” Zuko chokes out, swiveling his head to see if anybody was around.</p><p>He swears that he could feel Zuko squeeze his bicep.</p><p>“Hire me back, then.”</p><p>Zuko lets go (the place where he grabbed still feels hot), instead bringing in his arms to cross across his chest. “You were never unhired, I was joking.”</p><p>Sokka grins, lets go of his shirt, and grabs his jacket to shrug it back on before fishing his keys out of his pocket to twirl them victoriously around his finger.</p><p>“That’s what I thought. Now get in the car, those episodes of The Great British Bake-Off aren’t going to watch themselves, Zuko.”</p><p>Zuko sighs, before already shuffling to the passenger side of his car. “What happened to binging all the Fast and Furious movies?”</p><p>Sokka clicks his tongue while he works on jamming his key into the socket. “Like your uncle says, Zuko—to love something you have to let it go; temporarily, that is. We will be returning to Fast and Furious, watching Stacey fail at baking a sponge cake is just my main priority right now.”</p><p>“First of all, Uncle never said that, isn’t that just a Passenger song?” Sokka unlocks the car and they both hop in. “Also I thought you already finished the season with Stacey?”</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sokka starts the car, the low thrum of the engine permeating the space. “And I can’t possibly handle the emotional strain of watching anymore episodes without Liam alone.”</p><p>Also, Sokka is lonely, or rather, <em>was</em> lonely. He really liked Zuko, and he felt an unrivaled comfort in their shared appreciation of each other's company. It was nice knowing they would be working together.<br/>Sokka watches as Zuko props his knees against the dashboard, already looking out the side window. “I’m sure Stacey really fucked up that sponge cake.”</p><p>Sokka smiles to himself, because <em>yeah.</em> She really, really had.</p><p> </p><p>-----------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>There were a lot of things that Sokka ended up learning about Zuko in their time together. He learned about how Zuko played 80’s J-pop whenever given access to an aux cord, or how he was astronomically good at making any kind of breakfast food, but sucked at cooking anything else, or the way his tone changed and his face scrunched up whenever he thought something was ridiculous (he was really getting used to that one, with how their Fast and Furious binge nights were going). There was a lot of Zuko to know, but there was one thing that had particularly taken Sokka off guard, and that was how caring the guy was.</p><p>Sokka had completely gotten him wrong— he wasn’t emotionally-stunted in the least. Zuko wasn’t the most verbally-adept in comforting others, but what he <em>was</em> great at was reading moods and doing little acts of service. When Sokka was over-compensating for his low moods with a flurry of jokes, or when he was avoiding talking about his emotion, Zuko would look him in the eyes and squeeze his shoulder until Sokka finally opened up. Sometimes the comfort would come in Zuko on his doorstep, leftover boba from the shop in hand, and a small smile on his face. Other times it was Zuko adding an additional 20 minutes to Sokka’s break when his dad texted him to tell him he’s leaving again, or Zuko inviting him over to watch Scooby-Doo reruns whenever Sokka got really insecure about feeling like a nuisance.</p><p>It all gave Sokka a fuzzy feeling. No one’s ever cared about his emotional well-being so much. His usual hyper-confident act didn’t work with Zuko, and at first he didn’t really know what to do about it. He’s still not used to it, but it’s been….nice. There’s never been anyone who he could rely on so unapologetically before.<br/>That’s not to say Zuko is the one doing all the comforting, they have a very mutual friendship of being messes in general with each other. When they were both in a bad mood, and neither felt like being alone, they’d take Zuko’s truck and drive with no destination in mind— Sokka combined with an aux cord and an unlimited amount of music at his disposal was an unstoppable match. There’s a lot of 2Pac and Stevie Nicks that’s played, but Sokka makes sure to throw in some Tatsuro Yamashita for Zuko, too.</p><p>It’s been a couple of months now since Sokka started working at the Jasmine Dragon with Zuko— with full permission from Iroh— and they’ve basically been inseparable outside of work too. Zuko would probably never admit it, but he had probably been just as lonely as Sokka.</p><p>Today’s one of the rare days where Sokka isn’t working, but Zuko is. Sokka has spent the whole day cleaning around the house, because duh, he’s a good brother. Katara’s been doing all of the deep-cleaning lately, so he decided today is better as any to make it up to her (Sokka has a zero-sexist-gender-roles rule in this house, <em>everyone</em> does their part to maintain the house, thank you very much). He’s waiting on some loads of laundry, sitting on one of the island stools, while Katara aggressively beats some pie-dough with Frank Sinatra blasting in the background in front of him.</p><p>He looks absentmindedly up from his phone from where he’s texting Zuko to grimace at a particularly loud whack, only to realize that Katara’s taken to beating the dough with a rolling pin to flatten it.</p><p>“Katara, you’re going a little wild on that pie-dough. I think you’re having more luck flattening the table than the dough.”</p><p>Katara lets out a frustrated groan. “This is impossible! Why is baking so hard?” She sets the rolling pin down to drop her head into her propped-up hands to pout. “I even fucked up the filling.”</p><p>Sokka side-eyes blueberries that she’s basically just smashed into a purée. “Uh huh, yeah. I can see that. Do you need any help?”</p><p>Katara just sighs, wiping her hands across her apron, obscuring the <em>This Is My Glorified Bib</em> quote on it with flour and blueberry juice, it’s the only apron they own and Katara hates it. “No, I think I’m just gonna watch a Youtube video rather than follow Gran Gran’s recipe. I love her to pieces, but her tiny cursive writing is killing me.”</p><p>Sokka nods in agreement. “Remember when we thought her shopping list said black beads instead of black beans and brought home like 5 bags of black beads? And then Gran Gran didn’t realize until she’d already already dumped them into the chili pot?”</p><p>Katara cringes at the memory. “That was horrible. I don’t think I’m ever gonna forget the texture of chili and beads together. I’m just thankful Gran Gran learned how to text after that so she could type out all our shopping lists.”</p><p>They share a couple more quips about their undying gratitude for technology before Sokka catches the glimpse of a new message notification popping onto his phone screen and quickly picks up his phone to read it.</p><p><em><strong>Zuko🔥🔥🔥:</strong></em> <em>The girl who’s convinced I’m a vampire is back. She’s theorizing with her friend about how I got my scar, so far she thinks it’s from being burned by the sun.</em></p><p>
  <em><strong>Zuko🔥🔥🔥:</strong>I don’t think she knows that I can hear her.</em>
</p><p>Sokka audibly snorts, and feels his mouth curl into a smile.</p><p>
  <em><strong>Sokka: </strong>i think she might b onto smth, zuko, her theories keep adding up and theyre all very convincing</em>
</p><p>He hits send, feeling eyes on him. When he looks up, Katara’s staring at him with a cheeky smile and a twinkle in her eyes. Sokka already knows where this is going.</p><p>Her tone oozes suggestiveness. “So, Zuko, huh?”</p><p>“Yes, Zuko. What about him?” He says, setting his phone down. “We’re bros.”</p><p>“Do—” Katara throws her hands up to do air quotes—”<em>’bros’</em> wear each other's clothes?”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Sokka replies defensively.</p><p>“You’re literally wearing the burgundy hoodie he had on last time he was here.”</p><p>“This—” Sokka crosses his arms defensively over his chest, motioning vaguely to his chest with his free hand. “—is very much a bro thing to do, <em>thank you very much</em>!”</p><p>Katara mmm hmms’ him, and walks over to the sink to wash her hands. She turns off the music so Sokka can hear her better. “Anyway, it’s rare to not see you two together nowadays. Did he run to the store to get more of the super glue that conjoins you guys at the hip?”</p><p>Sokka gets up to walk over near the sink and lean on the counter near the sink. “<em>Har Har</em>, I didn’t think you had a sense of humor— and he’s working today, I have the day off. How’d you know I was texting him anyway?”</p><p>Katara wipes her wet hands on his— Zuko’s— hoodie earning a <em>Hey!</em> from Sokka before replying. “Because, whenever you text him your face gets all stupid.”</p><p>“First of all, my face always looks stupid.” Katara takes a minute to think this over, before nodding in agreement. “Secondly, he was just texting me about this customer who thinks he’s a vampire. It’s all very funny, and I <em>was</em> going to tell you about it before you decided to tease your dear, dear brother. Who, remind you, just cleaned the whole house.”</p><p>Katara just rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Anyway.” Sokka smirks. “You’re giving me a lot of shit for someone who’s always around <em>Aang</em>.”</p><p>Katara stops scrubbing at the bowl she was washing, and fixes him with a dirty look. “Don’t you dare.”</p><p>“That reminds me~” Sokka coos. “How was that pottery class you guys went to yesterday? Did you get to finally recreate that one scene from Ghost? I know just how obsessed you were with that movie when you were 11.” Katara’s face goes a little red at that.</p><p>“What! No!! Sokka!” She shouts, dropping the bowl completely.</p><p>“You know, looking back on it, I think it’s your fault I’m bi. Seeing Patrick Swayze everytime you walk out into the living room for an entire year really changes a man.” Sokka has no shame, flashing her his best smug look.</p><p>Katara gapes and shoves at him. “Oh my god, shut up! We did not-- well, maybe a little. It doesn’t matter!”</p><p>Their bantering comes to a halt when the front door opens and their dad walks through. “I’m home! Woah, is someone baking in here?” Sokka can hear the thumping of boots as he walks over and sets his keys to his pick-up on the counter.</p><p>“Oh, hey dad. Yeah, I’m trying to bake a pie.”</p><p>Hakoda examines the state of the kitchen. “Emphasis on tried?”</p><p>Katara rolls her eyes. “You’re hilarious-- and no boots in the house, you know this!”</p><p>Sokka sits on the counter for a bit longer, shoulders tense as he watches his dad and Katara talk. He doesn’t really know how to feel about his dad right now. There’s a gnawing sensation of resentment growing in Sokka’s chest for how easily his dad waltzes through the door. It’s like he doesn’t even realize that he’s gone more than he’s here. It makes his throat grow tight. He hates how strained his relationship with his dad is lately. Sokka’s always loved his dad, and he’s never hated him, but the helplessness in him grows day by day. He doesn’t hate his dad, he just hates how his dad has been making him <em>feel</em>. Maybe if Sokka was a little braver he would talk to his dad about it. Maybe he’d tell him how much he misses watching Finding Bigfoot reruns over tubs of ice-cream together. Or how he wishes he were around more to teach Katara how to parallel park. God, maybe he’d finally be able to tell his dad about Suki breaking up with him just so he'd stop asking about her all the time.</p><p>Right now he doesn’t feel real brave though, right now he feels like a rubber band being stretched, and stretched, until he finally snaps.</p><p>Sokka feels his face contorts into something like a snarl. He slides off the counter and stomps so hard as he lands that the soles of his feet ache. His dad finally notices him when Sokka snatches his phone off the counter.</p><p>His dad notices the hostility almost immediately, because of course he does.</p><p>“Hey, bud, you okay?” His voice sounds concerned.</p><p>“Just peachy. How’s Bato, dad? You two seem to really be getting along these days with how much he’s whisking you away.” His tone comes out sharp, and there’s this slight feeling of relief at finally being able to air some of his anger.</p><p>“I’m gonna go check on the laundry…” Katara mutters in between the tension of the two, quickly ducking into the hallway.</p><p>The wrinkles on Hakoda’s face deepen as he frowns. “Sokka, is this about Bato? Do you not like him?” He seems almost anxious.</p><p>He’s so fucking dense. It makes the anger in Sokka rise to his throat, and he’s just barely controlling himself from letting it loose.</p><p>“No, dad. Bato’s great. I’m just <em>so</em> glad that you have someone that you can escape with to get a long break from your <em>kids</em>.” Sokka hates how petty he sounds. He hates how pathetic this is all coming out, all that holding back until he felt like talking about everything calmly, gone.</p><p>Hakoda’s face drops and he has the <em>audacity</em> to look a little guilty. “I’m sorry, Sokka, I didn’t know you felt that way—”</p><p>Sokka interrupts him with a harsh laugh. “Oh yeah, I get it. I mean how could you know, dad? When you don’t even take the time to talk to us anymore?” Sokka feels unhinged. He knows how passive aggressive this is coming across, and the little relief he was feeling earlier is rapidly being replaced by the sheer guilt he’s feeling from watching his dad’s face grow more and more sad by the second.</p><p>“Sokka, I—”</p><p>“No. You know what?” He interrupts again. The guilt is unbearable at this point, and his head is pounding with the adrenaline from all the pent-up rage, and guilt, and fear. “I’ll take the initiative for once. That way you don’t have to go out of your way to travel into butt-fuck nowhere just to avoid us.” He’s not being rational in the slightest, but his head is clouded over to the point he doesn’t know if he can feel anything but anger. He shoves his phone into his pocket, and stomps over to where his keys are laying on the coffee-table.</p><p>“I’m going over to Zuko’s place.” He takes a shaky breath, his voice trembling. “I need to go clear my head.”</p><p>His dad looks paralyzed in place when Sokka gives him one last watery look after opening the door, but Sokka smothers his guilt, yanks his eyes away, and walks out the door, slamming it behind him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry I lied :(( the final destination of the train is actually Angst Central. I will not refund your tickets. </p><p>Anyway!! This chapter was a BITCH to write! I actually planned on this chapter coming out weeks ago, but I didn't really know where I wanted this fic to go so I had to do a bunch of planning out for the upcoming chapters and I kept getting hung up on small details and it was overall just a mess-- but it's finally done!! The next chapters should be easier to write so they'll come out quicker. The final product of this fic should be around 25k-30k words long. Oh! And I forgot to say that this fic will likely always be released on Saturday nights! :) So...anticipate WHICH Saturday nights.... muahaha.</p><p>I got some feedback from the last fic and I decided since that one was heavy with the internal monologue, I'd switch it up a bit and make this one more dialogue-based. I had a blast with writing all those interactions. I just hope I'm not making too many pop culture references lmaooo. I can't help it. BIG THANK YOU to @lalalazy for beta-reading this and being the north star to my night sky!</p><p>As always, any form of feedback is always appreciated. Especially comments! They genuinely motivate me to keep writing and I appreciate every single one. ALSO WE HIT 750 CLICKS?? AND ALMOST 130 KUDOS?? Y'all are WILD!!! I've never imagined my writing would get so much attention. I appreciate y'all endlessly. Enough of my rambling, I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Stay safe, stay healthy, and remember that black lives matter!!! see ya in the next update &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. calling it off, our hoax of trying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*TW for legal drinking!! If alcohol and mild drunk behavior triggers you then I’m so sorry!  This chapter has a huge scene with Zuko and Sokka drinking. Please skip ahead to where it ends, I’ll mark it with the asterisks **************** to separate it from the rest. Hope it helps and you can still somewhat enjoy this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sokka doesn’t end up driving to Zuko’s place right away. Zuko has yet to get off his shift at the Jasmine Dragon, and Sokka really doesn’t want to pull into his drive-way at the small chance that Iroh is home to watch him cry in his car for an hour until Zuko gets off work. </p><p> </p><p>Instead, Sokka opts for gripping his steering wheel so hard he sees his knuckles turn white while driving down a straight-away. He’s still seething with resentment, but after 30 minutes of cursing out every car he comes in to contact with —<em> What kind of person drives a fucking brown Chevy! Fuck your bad taste in car colors!— </em> he feels slightly better. The only thing left is the heavy guilt sitting in his stomach. The weight of it is all-consuming and he knows that if he doesn’t numb it soon his head will implode from over-thinking. Thinking in general is dangerous at the moment. In an attempt to empty his head, he focuses all his attention on his surroundings, and drowns out any possible thoughts with the <em> 80’s Pop Hits! </em>channel. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually Sokka spots a little gas station mini-mart. The towering sign advertising it in big blocky letters grows on the horizon as he drives closer— for some reason his brain starts to reminisce back to the nights where him and Zuko would get wasted and vent about their shit.</p><p> </p><p>In a split-second decision, he promptly turns his blinker on and turns into the parking lot.</p><p>
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</p><p>Sokka pulls into Zuko’s driveway exactly an hour and fifteen minutes after he left his house, with the addition of a repulsive amount of cheap alcohol in his back seat. It wasn’t like it was a long drive from Sokka’s own house, neither had moved far from home yet --if anything Zuko moved closer to Sokka when he began living with his Uncle freshman year. </p><p> </p><p>He just needed time to cool down. He had circled the neighborhood a bit before deciding that after his fifth time around, he was just being downright creepy. Which led him to making an impromptu pizza run. </p><p> </p><p>So yeah, now he’s sitting in front of Zuko’s house, emotionally unhinged, and smelling more and more like garlic from the pizza each passing minute he waits to get out of his car. He’d had his fair share of low moments, but he was not about to go to make Zuko go through the emotional labor of Sokka randomly showing up to cry on his doorstep. Taking a deep breath, he decided to do some grounding techniques that he had picked up from Katara.</p><p> </p><p>He’s pretty sure one of the techniques was to observe and take in his surroundings, and it wasn’t hard to immediately get mesmerized by Zuko’s house. It was old and situated in an isolated part of the more forested side of town. It’s structure was settled neatly into the side of a mountain like it had grown there with all the vegetation that was swarming around it. There were wooden steps leading up to the front porch that <em> always </em> groaned under the weight of Sokka and Zuko’s feet. They had tried to sneak up those steps again and again at god-knows-what time of night after catching movies when their shifts finished (and honestly, Sokka doesn’t even know why they tried, it was always without success-- Iroh always caught them). </p><p> </p><p>Easy to say, Sokka <em> loved </em> the place. The little memories he had made it feel like home, despite him only being there about a dozen times. The only reason why Zuko and him <em> weren’t </em> there 24/7 was because of the lack of a DVD player and Iroh’s tireless insistence on playing Pai Sho with the two of them. Sokka could only get his ass beat so many times, okay? </p><p> </p><p>It somehow makes perfect sense that by the time he’s tugging his keys out of the ignition, the storm of guilt and resentment in his chest bubbles down to nothing but a dull throb. </p><p> </p><p>He fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie, trying to calm himself down before he does anything too stupid, and hauls himself out of his car after digging out the bag of booze from his backseat. </p><p> </p><p>Sokka makes his way up the groaning porch steps and stands in front of the door before he realizes that he should probably text Zuko; Just to make sure that Iroh wasn’t gonna have to bare witness to Sokka standing lamely on his doorstep with red eyes, two pizzas, and an abhorrent amount of the cheap wine that Zuko likes. He sincerely doubts Iroh would say anything, but Sokka still has a bit of dignity he wishes to keep. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong> Sokka:</strong> heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy zukoooo is ur uncle home </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong> Zuko&lt;3:</strong> Uhhh, no??  He’s at some tea convention for the next night or two while we run shop. Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong> Sokka:</strong> awesome, very cool </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong> Sokka:</strong> i am outside ur house rn </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong>Zuko&lt;3: </strong>Wait, what? Are you joking? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em><strong>Sokka: </strong>look outside  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He hears the front window fly open with a blunt <em> clunk </em> and Zuko’s head pops out, face pulled into an alarmed expression.</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell??”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka gives him a dejected grin and lifts the bag and pizza boxes to eye-level so that Zuko can see them better. “Delivery?”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko’s eyebrow visibly furrows and he shouts a quick <em> “Hold on!” </em>as he loudly slides the window back into place. Sokka can hear the thudding of his feet against the floor before he reaches the door to swing it open.</p><p> </p><p>Sokka hadn’t realized until now, but Zuko looks fresh out of the shower. There’s a strong scent of jasmine that permeates the air as he steps out (he recognizes the smell as Zuko’s shampoo almost instantly). His shaggy wet bangs are plastered to his forehead, and water is dripping down into the collar of his shirt. </p><p> </p><p><em> Haha, I’m in trouble. </em> Sokka thinks to himself as he audibly gulps as he thinks to himself, not for the first time, how <em> very </em> attractive his friend is. </p><p> </p><p>The way Zuko’s hair is dripping droplets into the harsh ridges of his scar reminds Sokka of the first day that he had opened up to him, and how he had been soaked through from all the frolicking in the rain he did all to find Sokka’s mopey ass. It makes him go soft in a weird way that shouldn’t really be possible when he was raging with anger and self-hatred mere minutes ago. </p><p> </p><p>Sokka shuts his mouth once he realizes he was staring. <em> Oh my god he was gaping at him. He literally had his mouth hanging open. </em>He is currently emotionally unstable and his brain would rather remind him of his repressed attraction to his friend then deal with the issue at hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Heyyyyy,” is what ends up coming out of Sokka’s mouth when his brain decides to start functioning again.</p><p> </p><p>Zuko looks unamused. “Hi. Get inside already, it’s freezing.”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka does his best to summon something like a smile, but he’s so tired that he doesn’t get anything more than a quirk of his lips before he’s shuffling past Zuko and taking off his shoes. The door shuts behind him with a soft click, and there’s a string of silence as Sokka hands Zuko the alcohol and pizzas to wrestle off his shoes by the door. </p><p> </p><p>“Rough day?”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka can’t find it in him to start dishing any details until he’s drunk off his ass. “Talk later, drink now,” is all he says, and Zuko doesn’t seem to have any issue with that sentiment. He’s already digging through the boxes of pizza and alcohol on the kitchen counter.</p><p> </p><p>The inside of Zuko's place was comfy as hell, it was all earthy-tones and wooden furniture. Sokka’s favorite thing was the brick fireplace in the living room, and a close runner-up was the hutch in the corner of the living room filled to the brim with different tea sets. </p><p> </p><p>Sokka’s splayed out on the rug by the fireplace, cranberry-vodka soda in hand, and thoroughly buzzed not even 30 minutes after his arrival. There’s shuffling next to him as Zuko sits down next to him after grabbing his 4th slice of pizza and more cheap wine.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s such a horrible combination. At least have beer, you monster.” </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up.” Is Zuko’s eloquent response, all while spitting around a mouthful of pizza. Sokka takes the opportunity to lay his head on Zuko’s extended thigh out of spite. You know, because maybe his thigh will fall asleep. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t complain when you have a raging hangover tomorrow.” </p><p> </p><p>Zuko shrugs. “We’ll have leftover pizza. Greasy food makes everything better.” He immediately relaxes against the coffee-table and shifts so he can get into a more comfortable position for Sokka. </p><p> </p><p>The thing that’s always caught Sokka off-guard with Zuko, is how open he is when he gets drunk, both physically and verbally. After years of experience with drunk Zuko, he’s not surprised when Zuko finishes his pizza just to immediately start carding his fingers through Sokka’s wolf-tail until it’s undone.</p><p> </p><p>Sokka closes his eyes and hums, happy for the skinship. “You know this would be a lot better if I couldn’t feel the pizza grease on your fingers transferring onto my scalp.”</p><p> </p><p>He can feel Zuko vindictively wipe his hands on Sokka’s hair like a napkin. </p><p> </p><p>Sokka cringes and tries to bat at Zuko’s hands but his coordination is slowed by the vodka and he just ends up slapping Zuko’s knee. “Hey, stop that! My hair!”</p><p> </p><p>“You need a shower anyway.” Zuko says boredly, still carding his fingers through Sokka’s thick hair.</p><p> </p><p>At the mention of a shower, it’s like Sokka’s sense of smell kicks in again, and he’s once again reminded of the faint scent of jasmine permeating the space around Zuko (a huge contrast to Sokka, who just smells like pizza). He’s tempted to take Zuko up on the offer for a shower if it means smelling that good, but decides being sober is worse than being a bit greasy.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmh, I’ll shower in the morning, prefer not to be sober.”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko begins to distractedly massage Sokka's scalp. “Did something happen?”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka leans unconsciously into the touch. “Yeah. Dad stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>”Dad stuff is the worst.” Zuko replies without missing a beat.</p><p> </p><p>No one knows Dad Issues more than Zuko does. Sokka has never really thought of himself as a person capable of murder, but then he found out about the shit Ozai had pulled on Zuko before the restraining order and thought, <em> Yeah. I get the appeal now. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Sokka nods against Zuko’s thigh. “I probably shouldn’t complain--”</p><p> </p><p>Before Sokka can finish his sentence, Zuko is pinching his nose. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not like I’m the only one in the world with dad issues, Sokka.” Zuko lets go of his nose and settles for mussing up his hair again. “My experiences shouldn’t define how you should look at yours and all that.”</p><p> </p><p>They lock eyes--which kinda hurts Sokka’s head because he has to crane his neck to look up at where Zuko is sitting up-- only for Sokka to tear his gaze away a few seconds later. </p><p> </p><p>“I hate when you get all wise.”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko’s tone shifts to something more playful. “Why, because I’m right?”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka snorts. “Yeah, maybe. You sound like your uncle.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly, that’s kinda a compliment?” Zuko comments, his fingers beginning to rub at the peach fuzz by Sokka’s temple until his eyes close again. </p><p> </p><p>“True. Your uncle is probably one of the coolest people I know, and that says a lot because I also know you and Toph-- mostly Toph.”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko snorts in response, huffing a sarcastic drawled out <em> wow, thanks </em> before they fall back into a somber silence. Sokka feels his tummy churning with the warm feeling of alcohol, and his head begin to swirl as he feels his limbs go a little number. He lets out a content sigh as Zuko drops his hands to start playing with the strings of Sokka’s old Metallica hoodie while Sokka thumbs at the fabric of Zuko’s sweatpants. </p><p> </p><p>“I kinda walked out on my dad earlier?”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko doesn’t stop playing with his hoodie strings. It’s comforting, and Sokka finds it as a signal to keep going.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s been stressful having him around. I mean, don’t get me wrong, when he went overseas to help provide for us, it was hard, and I’m glad he’s back. It just...confuses me, him being here, I think. And then it feels like he keeps trying to leave again? Ugh, I don’t know what I’m saying.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not going anywhere, take your time.” Zuko murmurs, one of his hands stops to reach over to his drink and take another sip.  </p><p> </p><p>There’s a few moments of silence as Sokka tries to formulate his frustrations into coherent sentences. Zuko waits patiently after drinking more of his wine, and begins to idly pick the lint off of Sokka’s hoodie. </p><p> </p><p>“When he came back, Katara and I were <em> soooo </em> relieved. It was like we had a parent again. It was peaceful for a few years while Katara and I were busy with school and jobs n’ all that growin’ up stuff. But then he started going on all these hunting trips and now everythinnng is fuckin’ complicated again.” Sokka stumbles over the last of his words a bit, the alcohol fogging his brain a bit. </p><p> </p><p>Sokka sees Zuko’s eyebrows furrow out of the corner of his eye, “Do you know why?”<br/><br/></p><p>“Fuck if I know. Maybe he just hates me.” Sokka hiccups, lips tightening reflexively at the sting of acid-reflux burning at his throat. </p><p> </p><p>“Sokka,” Zuko’s voice comes across as firm.”I don’t think he hates you. I understand your frustration, but I think you should, like, talk to him before you decide the worst .” </p><p> </p><p>Sokka turns his head to shove his face into the side of Zuko’s t-shirt and loudly groans, making Zuko squirm a bit. </p><p> </p><p>“Ughhhhhhh. Fine. Yeah, I need to talk to him. If only the bastard would <em> let me </em>.” Sokka relents, his speech muffled by the fact he’s basically pressed up against Zuko’s side now. Sokka can hear Zuko audibly gulp next to him. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure it’ll work out.” Zuko mumbles, sounding distracted. </p><p> </p><p>Sokka is kinda curious as to why, so he pushes himself up from where he had settled his head on Zuko’s thigh to look at him. </p><p> </p><p>“You okay? I’m not being a dickhead ‘bout the physical boundaries thing right?”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko’s eyes looked dilated, and his face was a bit flushed from the alcohol. “Shit, uh, yeah I’m cool. You’re fine. I’m listening, sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>He takes a moment to toss him a skeptical look, but Zuko looks sincere, and pretty drunk. The tension in Sokka’s jaw relieves a bit at the confirmation that Zuko is comfortable. </p><p> </p><p>And suddenly it dawns on him that he had <em> missed </em> having this level of vulnerability with Zuko. Back in high school, Zuko was always the one to do all the venting during their drunken one-on-one convos post-gang game nights. It’s not like Sokka didn’t do any venting, but it had always been pretty light compared to Zuko’s load. He’d kinda almost forgotten how unconsciously close he and Zuko had gotten back in high school. They had hung out more than a few times but then Sokka started dating Suki and got a job and—yikes. Had Sokka been a bad friend?</p><p> </p><p>Sokka’s expression visibly falls and Zuko seems to instantly notice by the way his posture becomes rigid again, but lets a minute or two go by before he breaks the silence. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s on your mind?” </p><p> </p><p>Sokka looks up from the spot he’d been staring at in his haze. </p><p> </p><p>“Zuko, have I been a prick?”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko’s whole expression seems to be taken aback. </p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck? Who made you think that?”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka bites his lip. “I don’t know, I was just thinking back to when we had gotten close in high school and how after we graduated, I just kinda stopped talking to you?” Sokka scoffs at himself, “And then I fuckin’ whined to you after years of not reaching out about how <em>lonely</em> I was. I’m just… I’m sorry. That was a dick move.” </p><p> </p><p>Zuko’s expression softens, and he rolls his eyes. “Sokka, I never reached out either. If anything… I was kind of avoiding everyone anyway.” Zuko shrugs, and picks up his cup to swirl the last bit of liquid inside it mindlessly. “I didn’t want to get attached before everyone left. So… I’m sorry too, I guess?”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka just stares, and stares. Zuko shifts his gaze upwards to shoot Sokka a quizzical look. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> They had both been pretty stupid, huh? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hey.” Sokka says, lips curling up into a ridiculous smile as he looks at Zuko for probably a little too long.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi?” Zuko responds, raising his head to quirk an amused eyebrow at the sudden change in atmosphere.</p><p> </p><p>Sokka doesn’t know what to do, but the alcohol seems to kick in again because Sokka just starts <em> laughing </em>. He breaks out into a laugh that gradually grows louder and louder. He doubles over and leans his head on Zuko’s shoulder, and he can feel Zuko’s confused hand pat Sokka against the back.</p><p> </p><p>Zuko sounds borderline affronted. “I’m sorry, am I missing something?”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka can feel tears welling up in his eyes. “No, no--pfffft,” he takes a minute to hiccup between fits of laughter before he can form coherent sentences again. “I’m sorry I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at that--” Sokka breaks out into a wide smile and lifts his head to look at Zuko again. “We’re kinda hopelessly stupid, huh?” </p><p> </p><p>Zuko takes a moment to blink owlishly at Sokka, before it seems to click all at once and the <em> biggest </em> smile takes over Zuko’s face. </p><p> </p><p>Sokka can feel his own smile growing with it, and he briefly wonders if he’s ever seen Zuko smile that wide.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, we’re really stupid.” Zuko's tone is soft and pliant, and he chimes in to laugh lightly alongside Sokka at their shared social ineptitude</p><p> </p><p>They share a few minutes of unrestrained laughing, leaning into one another. Then everything dies down and all that’s left is stinging-cheeks and scratchy vocals from the combination of laughing fits and alcohol. Sokka’s head still feels fuzzy and his body feels all loose, and when him and Zuko look at each other after their laughter dies down, something begins to wriggle itself into the bottom of Sokka’s gut when he processes just how happy Zuko looks; his face is like a open book, brimming with adrenaline and remnants of a smile, and the feeling only grows larger in Sokka upon the revelation that he <em> caused </em> that expression. </p><p> </p><p>Both Sokka and Zuko seem to change moods within seconds of one another when an unspoken tension takes root. It takes him a minute to realize that Zuko’s gaze had traveled downwards from Sokka’s eyes to where his tongue flickered across his own lips—and suddenly they’re both leaning in unconsciously and Sokka can feel his adam-apple bob in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>Their noses are just about to touch, but then the rational side of his brain kicks in, before Sokka knows it, he’s pulling back and clearing his throat. </p><p> </p><p><em> Shit, we drank too much. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Sokka scrambles to his feet, nearly falling over with how the alcohol makes his head swim. “Wow! Do you smell that? Wooooo weee, I smell bad. I gotta shower! It can’t wait after all!”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko tilts his head to look up to where Sokka is now standing before clearing his throat and nodding his head, looking completely out of it as he tries to process the sudden change in situation. His voice is raspier than usual as he croaks out a confused, “Uhh, last door at the end of the hall. I’ll bring you clothes.” </p><p> </p><p>Sokka can feel himself all-too-eagerly nod. Within seconds he’s hurried himself down the hall, firmly shutting the bathroom door behind him. Sokka takes a minute to compose himself, inhaling and exhaling, but there’s only one thought that echoes through his head no matter how hard he tries to flush it out alongside the panic in his body.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sokka is <em> very </em> much freaking the freak out when there’s a knock on the door. His shoulders stiffen as Zuko opens the door slightly to reach his arm through the crack and set some clothes down on the sink. </p><p> </p><p>“Uhh, have a good shower?” is the only thing he says before Sokka can hear a noise that vaguely sounds like Zuko slapping his hand against his face before walking back down the hall.</p><p> </p><p>Sokka quickly goes to shut the door again. <em> Right, showering. That’s what he’s supposed to be doing right now. </em> Sokka quickly strips down to jump into the shower and hopefully sober up in the process. </p><p> </p><p>Well, that was what he had hoped would happen.</p><p> </p><p>Sokka did end up sobering up a bit, but it came at the cost of his brain finally being able to process that he and Zuko were about to <em>kiss. </em>There’s this unwavering dread that begins to settle over him as he realizes that he was just about to kiss his best friend like it was everything he’d ever wanted. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fuck.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ok, so Sokka had too much to drink. That’s it. A momentary lapse in judgement. </p><p> </p><p>Yes, he thought Zuko was hot, but Sokka thought a <em> lot </em> of people were hot. So he had never thought to question it, he just thought Zuko was a bit hotter than other people. Who wouldn’t? Zuko was hot, and funny, and smart, and he felt more comfortable with him than anyone else. Those are just facts. </p><p> </p><p>He’s just worrying over nothing. Everybody does stupid shit when drunk, right? Zuko and him were just two dudes who were very comfortable with their sexuality, breaking the stigma against bro-on-bro affection. Sokka just got a little too caught up in the moment.</p><p> </p><p>He nods to himself. Yeah, he just lost his cool momentarily there. Nothing to worry about.</p><p> </p><p>Sokka finally drops his head against the shower wall in defeat as his sobered-up mind comes to a conclusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, I like Zuko.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Sokka ended up staying the night for obvious reasons. The rest of the night had gone by rather smoothly despite Sokka’s daunting moment of realizing his probably-more-than-friendly feelings for Zuko.</p><p> </p><p>Everything was normal. Zuko didn’t really seem to have noticed the gravity of Sokka’s almost-fuck up, and if he did, he seemed to have been too drunk to notice. They bicker over who should sleep on the bed, both stubborn to let the other enjoy the mattress when they inevitably had hangovers in the morning. Sokka ended up ending the argument with a loud sigh of frustration and pulled Zuko onto the mattress with him. </p><p> </p><p>His feelings be damned, he was not letting Zuko fall asleep on a sofa, especially when Zuko was going to wake up to the most monster hangover in the morning from all the cheap wine he drank. Plus, the bed was big enough for both of them, and Sokka was not about to prolong a fight with Zuko when he could just as easily be sleeping off his oncoming headache.</p><p> </p><p>Zuko only resisted for a few minutes to the idea before he was passed out on the bed, clearly exhausted. Sokka followed soon after his head hit the pillow.</p><p> </p><p>And of course, Sokka was right about Zuko being hungover. The next morning Zuko slept in nearly an hour after the sun had rose, which was probably a world record for him. He’d always woken up before Sokka, so it was a surprise that when Sokka did eventually rub the sleep from his eyes, there was a mop of black hair snoozing soundly next to him (and much to Sokka’s delight, he found out that Zuko <em> drooled </em> in his sleep). It made the feeling of affection that had pitted itself in Sokka last night stir a bit. He smiled as he watched for a minute or two before his conscience eventually got the better of him, and he begrudgingly untangled himself from the sheets.</p><p> </p><p>Sokka’s head was throbbing, but nothing debilitating. The early-morning sunlight filtering in through the windows made him squint as he made his way to the bathroom for some aspirin and water. He ended up fisting the cupboards for around a good ten minutes before finally finding some and returning to Zuko’s bedroom. </p><p> </p><p>Zuko was now shifting uncomfortably in his spot on the bed, half-awake, and groaning as he shoves his face into his pillow. </p><p> </p><p>“Too bright.”</p><p> </p><p>“Agreed.” Sokka replies, setting the glass of water and aspirin on Zuko’s night-stand. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you want for breakfast sleepyhead?” </p><p> </p><p>Zuko grunts something unintelligible into his pillow. </p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh, sorry can’t speak pillow. What was that?”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko shifts his face out from his pillow to face where Sokka is standing. Before Zuko can repeat himself though, he has to spit some of his hair out of his mouth-- which Sokka <em> should not </em> find as charming as he does. </p><p> </p><p>“Hrmmggh, Congee.”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka’s familiar with the dish, but he’s never tried to make it before. Guess today is as good as any to learn. He had a feeling it would come in handy again.</p><p> </p><p>“Kay’, do you have the stuff for it?”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko looks up at Sokka through his bangs and then closes his eyes again after a moment as if he was thinking hard about it. “Mmmhmm, leftover rice... in fridge.” </p><p> </p><p>“Gotcha.” Sokka responds, and immediately turns to walk out before he can succumb to the urge to brush Zuko’s hair out of his face like some kind of romance cliche. </p><p> </p><p>A little bit under an hour passes, and with the help from multiple YouTube videos, Sokka has put together some congee that he hopes will be good-enough to appease their hangovers. Just as he’s topping off the dish with green onion and chicken he hears some shuffling and a soft <em> thud </em> behind him as Zuko sits down at the kitchen table. Sokka takes it as a signal, and picks up the two large bowls, making his way over to the little table to set one down in front of Zuko. </p><p> </p><p>Sokka scoots in across from him, setting his own share in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Mornin’. Sleep good?”</p><p> </p><p>Zuko grunts softly in reply, before mumbling out a nonsensical <em> mmmmhm </em> in response. </p><p> </p><p>And Sokka definitely does not take the time to notice how disheveled Zuko’s hair is, or how much raspier his voice gets when he first wakes up in the morning, or how Zuko hums happily after eating his first mouthful of hastily-thrown-together congee. </p><p> </p><p>Sokka, most importantly, does not think about what it would be like to wake up everyday with Zuko by his side, because that would be completely unrealistic and totally out of line.</p><p> </p><p>--or maybe he does. Maybe he thinks so much about all the little things that make Zuko so <em> Zuko </em> that Sokka forgets to continue eating his own portion of congee until the man across from him throws him a glance and Sokka finds himself fumbling for his spoon again.</p><p> </p><p><em> I’m so fucked. </em> Sokka thinks, as he takes another bite of savory rice-porridge. </p><p> </p><p>Zuko finishes his bowl and grins at him lazily, rice stuck to the corner of his lip.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Sokka.”  </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yeah. Sokka is completely, 100%, without a doubt, utterly fucked. </em>
</p><p>
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  <br/>
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</p><p>
  <em> -------------------------------------------------- </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Sokka leaves a little later in the day, giving plenty of reassurance to Zuko that he was fine to go. He needed to talk to his dad, and also try to take some time to sort out (or deeply,<em> deeply </em> repress) any further feelings that might develop for his friend. Plus it was the weekend, so Zuko and him didn’t have to worry about opening for the Jasmine Dragon, which left Sokka plenty of time to have a lengthy discussion with his dad. </p><p> </p><p>There’s nothing short of dread filling his head as soon as it hits him that he actually has to have a <em> conversation </em> with his <em> father </em>. An emotionally-laborious conversation sounds like one of the worst things to do while still rockin’ a minor headache, but he would really rather talk things over while he still has the courage to. </p><p> </p><p>Sokka’s not sure what he’s expecting, but he releases a breath of relief when he finds that his dad’s truck is still parked in their driveway as he pulls up. </p><p> </p><p>When he gets to the door though, he can feel the tension bloom again in his chest as he slides his key into the lock, jangling it around until the door eventually clicks open.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't even make it halfway through the door before he’s scared shitless at the form of his dad standing in the hallway. </p><p> </p><p>“Holy sh-, Holy crap. You scared me.” Sokka says, a little bewildered. </p><p> </p><p>Hakoda seems just as surprised, but his wrinkled face quickly falls into a neutral, if sad, expression. </p><p><br/>“Hey bud.” </p><p> </p><p>Sokka can feel the ache of adrenaline running through him, the wave of emotions that he’d left last night start coming back to him all at once, but this time it took the form of something more somber rather than angry. Sokka stands awkwardly in front of the door after closing it for a few seconds. He eventually conjures up enough will to make his way over to where his dad is standing in the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>Sokka follows Hakoda’s gaze to where he was looking at some photos on the hallway wall. The one that had specifically caught his eye was a framed photo of Sokka and his dad’s first ever fishing trip. Hakoda was beaming, crouched down next to a small Sokka. Sokka was about a quarter of his dad’s height, beaming a toothy-grin at the camera all while holding a fish about the size of his forearm. They were both wrapped in furs to block out the cold, and if he had to guess, it had probably been taken a few years before his mom had died judging by the smiles on their faces.</p><p> </p><p>Hakoda finally turns to face him after a minute of shared silence.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Sokka. You have every right to be mad at me.”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka nods. “I know.”</p><p> </p><p>Hakoda seems to accept his response just fine despite its forwardness.</p><p> </p><p> “I was wondering if you… wanted to go on a trip? Maybe we could go fishing, just us, I think I owe you more than a few talks.”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka’s gaze falls to the photo just below the fishing-trip photo. It was a picture of his mom with toddler-Katara in her lap eating Cheerios. It was his favorite photo, Katara looked so stupid. Her comically chubby baby-cheeks were covered in Cheerios. His mom looked exhausted, but still beamed despite the obscene amount of spit-up and cereal that covered her shirt.</p><p> </p><p>Sokka lets the tension in his shoulders drop, and he fixes his dad with a tired look.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, we do need to talk. Fishing sounds good.” Is all Sokka can muster out, but his dad gives him a watery smile as he nods to himself in approval, his sad eyes moving back to the photo on the wall as if they were glued there. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Sounds good. Let Iroh know that you’ll be taking a week off from work starting this Monday. I’m sure he’ll understand, I can even get Katara to help out at the shop.”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka nodded, he hadn’t really had time to fully process just <em> what </em> he was going to say to his dad on the trip; nonetheless, he was happy they would be spending some time together. </p><p> </p><p>“Sounds good, dad.”</p><p> </p><p>Sokka doesn’t know what will result from the trip, but seeing his dad in such a deep pit of regret might help him look forward to the trip a bit more. He still wasn’t going to magically forgive his dad at the drop of the hat, they needed to talk a bit more before Sokka even considered trying to forgive him for the neglect that Katara and him had endured over the years. Sokka loved his dad, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to make Hakoda own up to his mistakes. </p><p> </p><p>At least, the trip would be a step in the right direction.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know if he could have had a solid conversation with his dad without the looming comfort of Zuko’s support. He doesn’t know if he could have even gotten the courage to be angry the other day without Zuko constantly reminding him that he deserved better.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know what would have happened to him without Zuko coming into his life again.</p><p> </p><p>Sokka smiles softly to himself, maybe he didn’t really have his shit-together right now, but he hoped that when he did, Zuko would be right there beside him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>heeeey y'all, how y'all doin :') It's been almost 2 months and what can I say? Shit has been absolutely bonkers.<br/>I've done a lot of growth as a fanfic writer over the course of writing this and it's taken me longer than I thought to produce chapters. I jusst have to have patience for the process and myself, ya know? But that does come at the cost of possible consistency errors and I'm sorry if that shows itself in any way over the course of these chapters. Thank you so much for the support! It's what keeps me going.</p><p>P.S. I know Zuko has no official ethnicity (at least to my knowledge) besides definitely-not-white, but I always thought of him as Chinese and I wanted to try and incorporate some of that into his characterization, hence the congee dish mention. I'm not Chinese, so feel free to chime in with feedback on that!</p><p>AGAIN THANK U SO MUCH FOR ALL THE NICE COMMENTS. I am overwhelmed by the support of my writing. I appreciate you guys so crazy much. Never thought I’d get 1700 clicks?!?! WOW. I promise this fic will not be dropped, I am a virgo and quitting is against my agenda. Next chapter will hopefully be out within the month!<br/>Hope you enjoyed this chap :) and if no ones has told u today, I love u! This world would not be the same without you here. stay safe out there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. what's this place if you're not here?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic has officially become THE hoodie sharing fic. I am an uncontrollable force yet to be stopped.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Sokka’s bonding trip with his dad so far has consisted of him smelling like he just fell down the world’s largest Christmas tree and hit every branch on the way down, being balls deep in the mud more times than he’d like, and catching a singular fish that Sokka took as many kissy-photos with it as any semi-mentally-sound person was possibly capable of taking.</p><p>Also, of course, Sokka and Hakoda talked; in fact, they had talked so much one night that Sokka forgot to send Zuko his daily barrage of selfies before he knocked out, which left Zuko to, quote, “<em> wonder if the fish had caught him instead of the other way around </em> .” At the shocking revelation of his best friend’s disbelief in his fishing <em> and </em>pestering abilities, Sokka caught another fish out of sheer determination and doubled on the kissy-fish photos the next day. </p><p>The trip wasn’t all fun-and-games though, it was more awkward than not initially. Talking with his dad was like a muscle he hadn’t used in a while, and it would take a while to get accustomed to using it again. There were days where the two of them said very little to each other, instead of settling on an agreed-upon silence. There was deliberate patience that his dad showed towards him, even when Sokka got frustrated while he was digging up past grievances. For the most part, his dad had openly accepted and apologized for all the hurt he did. There was a mutual acknowledgment that there were just some things that could never be forgiven, they would simply act as a lesson for years to come. </p><p>There’s always been this pressure of “forgive and forget” that Sokka felt like he was obligated to do for his and his dad’s peace of mind, but as they talked, there was a realization within him that it was okay to not be able to do either. Some things were just fucked up, like Sokka’s dad leaving them when they needed him most. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive his dad for running away, but he can come to terms with it as a reality. His dad apologized deeply for his actions of course and respected Sokka’s decision without getting angry. </p><p>They did interact regularly though, it would be too emotionally-exhausting to constantly talk about trauma, so they made sure to do silly things throughout the day sometimes. They had spent an unfathomable amount of time at the cabin resort’s dinky gift shop. Sokka had pointed out some clearly ancient tchotchkes that were collecting dust (lots of them had distasteful misogynistic quotes on them that had both Hakoda and Sokka scrunching their noses) which led Hakoda to look at keychains for Katara for what felt like ages, grumbling about the shitty selection that consisted of 5 rows of keychains that said the name “Sarah” and the rest being varying images of dolphins despite being nowhere near the ocean. </p><p>While his dad had agonized over keychains for longer than any adult man should probably feel comfortable with, Sokka had browsed the giftshop’s mug collection. He nearly knocked over the handcrafted wind-chimes display when he saw it— a mug so perfect that the deities of Greece themself would undoubtedly sip ambrosia out of. Shakespeare would tremble at its eloquence. It was the perfect gift.</p><p>
  <em> Women Want Me, Fish Fear Me </em>
</p><p>Zuko was gonna hate it so much.</p><p>Sokka bought the <em> fuck </em> outta that mug. </p><p>Eventually, Hakoda had settled on getting Katara a swiss-army knife that doubled as a keychain in the weird practical way of gift-buying that dads would do. An ache wracked his chest when he realized that he could lament over those kinds of things again. It was an overwhelming feeling after so much time had passed where he could comment on the patterns of parents and the weird, seemingly universal behaviors they have. It would take a while to get used to having an active parental-figure in his life again, but that didn’t mean it was unwelcome. It was a relationship that after being so strong, had become more like a baby deer first learning how to walk. </p><p>Speaking of realizations, it was only a week-long trip, but he missed Zuko more than he could have ever imagined. The two of them had developed this habit of being hellbent on not going 48 hours without seeing each other for a few months now, and Sokka was finding it very difficult to not text him every few hours to cope with the sudden aberration of his schedule (It’s not like half of the texts went through anyway, the wifi sucked in the cabin he was staying in).</p><p>The few texts that had gone through were mainly the selfies that he had sent throughout the day, finally delivering after a good hour connected to the shitty wifi. He would usually get delayed responses from Zuko come morning before they left for the day. </p><p>Time flew by fast despite the Zuko-withdrawals dilemma. Before Sokka knew it, their last morning at the cabin came. He felt more comfortable with his dad and vice versa, the emotionally laborious conversations had started to die down towards the last few days, instead, being swapped for curious proddings about each other's lives. Sokka found out that his dad had been helping Bato through a divorce which explained, but obviously didn’t justify, why he had been disappearing left and right lately. </p><p>Sokka waggled his eyebrows at his dad, who shot him an accusing glance in return.</p><p>“Sokka, as your father, if you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say I will personally sell your Xbox on Craigslist.”</p><p>Sokka smirks unashamed. “Oh little ol’ me? I’d never.”</p><p>Hakoda deadpans in disbelief, no doubt preparing himself for his son’s inevitable teasing.</p><p>“I’m suuure that you were just—” Sokka checks his nails smugly, “<em> helping </em> Bato through some stuff, as you put it. That’s totally why whenever you come home you look like you just won an Olympic gold medal and hop around the house like a lovesick rom-com character .”</p><p>“Sokka, what generation is your Xbox again?”</p><p>Sokka dismissively waves his hand at his now unamused, cross-armed father. “Sell it, I was thinking about trading in for a PS4 anyways. Anyway, uncool of you to ditch your kids for your latest flame, but—“ he looks down at his phone where a text notification from Zuko pops up. “I think I can understand the feeling of wanting to be around someone you like all the time.”</p><p>Hakoda’s expression softens, and he lets out a tired sigh. “I can’t believe how old you’re getting to be talking to <em> me </em> about my love life. This is breaking so many of the Good Parenting 101 rules. I should be the one pestering you about Zuko if anything.”</p><p>Sokka nearly drops his phone and sputters, eyes undoubtedly wide as saucers. “W-what are you talking about?” His face grows hot despite the biting chill of the early morning. </p><p>“Is the fact you hang out and talk with that Zuko boy every day not something significant?”</p><p>Sokka feels his voice crack and god he has no idea why he’s reacting to the concept of love and Zuko being in the same sentence. “Well, yes. We’re bros, homies, if you will. Erhm.” He can hear his dad clear his throat while staring at one of the floorboards so fiercely as if the thing might peel itself off from the floor and run away at any moment.</p><p>“Right. Hey, since when have you owned a Nirvana hoodie?” </p><p>Sokka stiffens in place from where he's seated on the bed and yanks his head to look down at what he was wearing. Shit.</p><p>“I’ve already been over this with Katara, Zuko and I are just bros who share clothes. We’re trying to dismantle toxic masculinity by being casually affectionate. Thank you very much. Also, Nirvana is cool.”</p><p>“Riiiiiiiight. Well, Zuko seems like a fine young man and you seem happy with him. I’d be happy if you guys would be...bros for a long time.”</p><p>“You’re just saying that because you like it when he comes over and cooks pancakes for us.”</p><p>Hakoda guffaws at being exposed. “And you don’t?”</p><p>Sokka can’t help himself, the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, and he starts to pick at the hairs on his arm bashfully. He can’t help himself, happiness and Zuko have been going hand in hand lately. “He does make pretty damn good pancakes.” </p><p>There’s a pause in conversation as they’re interrupted by housekeeping, and they quickly scramble to collect their belongings so they can begin loading them into the car. </p><p>It’s not until everything is packed inside the car and some Fleetwood Mac is playing in the low over the radio when the silence is broken.</p><p>“I think I like Zuko, dad.” </p><p>He hasn’t told anyone yet, scared of his own growing feelings, but when it comes out of his mouth it feels <em> right </em> that he told his dad.</p><p>Hakoda has a knowing look in his eye and an expression that Sokka can only describe as pleased. </p><p>“That’s cool, kiddo.”</p><p>Sokka can’t tell if it’s just his imagination, but his chest feels lighter after he says it.</p><p> </p><p>----------------------------------------</p><p>
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</p><p>Of course, as soon as there’s decent cell phone service Sokka is texting Zuko. He’s still a bit embarrassed at finally verbally acknowledging his crush like an excited child to his dad, but his desire to text Zuko is stronger than any potential shame he may feel after his love-sick confession.</p><p>
  <em><strong> Sokka</strong>: ill b home in an hour, wait for me, my little turtleduck </em>
</p><p>There’s almost an immediate reply.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Zuko&lt;3</strong>: Turtleduck? What kind of animal combo is that? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Zuko&lt;3:</strong> Also, stop acting as if you’re my husband coming home from war. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Sokka:</strong> pshh you like it, dont lie. is it ok if i come over later?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Zuko&lt;3</strong>: If you bring my Nirvana hoodie with you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Sokka:</strong> you can rip ur dumb hoodie from my cold dead hands. you only listen to like two of their songs anyways </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Sokka:</strong> also dont pretend that u havent stolen half my clothes, you leech, are you building a nest or something over there? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Zuko&lt;3:</strong> No, you’re ridiculous. I’ll see you in a bit. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Sokka</strong>: can’t believe you’re systemically trying to kill me via freezing by stealin all my hoodies </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Zuko&lt;3:</strong> Oh no, my plan. It’s been foiled. </em>
</p><p>Hakoda’s side-eyeing him with a smug look, but Sokka could give less of a shit. His face hurts from smiling so much at his phone and his heart is squeezing in his chest at the prospect of seeing Zuko soon. </p><p>He can’t remember the last time he was this excited about something. The only time that comes close was when he found out that Katara sings (badly) along to Rick Astley in the shower when she <em> thinks </em> she’s home alone.</p><p>They still have some time before they arrive back home, and his dad has become immersed in some old-school rock song blasting over the radio, so in the meantime, he scours over his many neglected phone notifications. He’s got multiple emails (half of them are from Etsy, fuck you Etsy. His wallet is already strained as it is without impulse buying handcrafted Pokémon keychains), and as he skims over his most recent his eyes bug out when he catches a glimpse of an email from one of the engineering companies he applied to without even the slightest expectation of hearing back. </p><p>The radio that had felt so loud seconds ago is suddenly drowned out with the pounding of adrenaline-induced blood rushing to his head after he reads it. There’s a dryness in his mouth and his eyes are flying over the text, but Sokka finally manages to muster up what little brain capacity he has left to comprehend the gist of it:</p><p>
  <em> Hi Sokka,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We have an entry-level engineering position opening up in a few months. We would like to continue with your application and discuss further details of your possible future employment to our company. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thank you, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We hope to hear from you again soon. </em>
</p><p>Sokka is, to say the least, gobsmacked. He opens his mouth to start pouring out his excitement to his dad, but he hesitates once the adrenaline in his head dulls down to a dull sinking feeling in his stomach. </p><p><em> A few months. </em>The thought reverberates around in his skull until he almost feels sick. </p><p>Before the feeling of dread gets any more intense though, he starts to desperately rationalize in his head.</p><p>
  <em> Well, a few months can mean anything. Maybe they were just alerting me of the position? It’s not like they mean that he’d have to drop everything in his life to fill the position as soon as possible… right? I mean, he purposefully applied for a company nearby his future college for convenience sake, but he didn’t think he was actually gonna be considered. It’s such a good opportunity though, it’d be stupid to waste. </em>
</p><p>The conflict of thoughts swirling in his head is starting to give him a headache. It’s good that he can look out the window while his dad keeps his eyes preoccupied on the road, otherwise he would have immediately caught on that something was wrong. With Sokka’s dramatic range of emotions in the last 10 minutes, you’d think he was acting out an entire drama to himself. </p><p>As Sokka racks his brain for how to feel about the sudden opportunity sprung on him, one concern seems to continuously reappear in his head.</p><p>
  <em> What about Zuko? </em>
</p><p>He can’t help himself, it hadn’t even been a few hours since he out-loud acknowledged that he was into his best friend, and now it feels like the world is throwing a big “<em> Fuck you! But also not really?” </em> in his face. Sokka is grateful and everything for the opportunity, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. Even if he <em> was </em>the one to apply in the first place, what were the odds of him actually getting a fairly competitive entry-level position at a well-known company? It’s driving him fucking crazy.</p><p>He just hopes that when he responds later he can at least confirm whether or not he needs to actually be worrying about this more. For now, he takes a deep breath, buries the email deep into the recesses of his mind to agonize over later, and in his signature Sokka-style repression he replaces his pessimistic overthinking with the earlier excitement of seeing Zuko again.</p><p><em> Things will work out, they always do. </em> Is what he <em> tries </em> to convince himself the rest of the way back, but there’s no denying the feeling of anxiety that takes root in his chest.</p><p>He doesn’t have time to dwell over it too long luckily enough. They’re home before he knows it, and with a look of acknowledgment to his dad, he grabs his keys from his room and he’s already out the door. Fish mug in hand, he slides into his car and instinctively starts driving in the direction of Zuko’s house before he can even think twice about it. </p><p>Before Sokka knows it he’s pulling into Zuko’s driveway and shooting him an ominously vague text to let him know that he’s arrived while bounding up the porch steps, the wood groaning familiarly under his weight. He decides that he’s too impatient to wait for Zuko at the front door, so he wraps around to where his bedroom window is and raps on the glass with the back of his knuckles (gently, Zuko doesn’t like sudden loud noises). </p><p>“It’s Sokka! I’ve returned alas my turtleduck, let me in! I know you don’t have a screen on your window. I woke up with, like, four spiders on me the last time I slept here because you left the window open.” </p><p>Zuko peaks his head out of his curtains, his thick hair sticking out every which way, and in a sweatshirt that Sokka can only assume is one of the many he’s missing. He’s yawning as he’s opening the window, and Sokka has to hand Zuko the small gift shop bag before gripping the window seal and maneuvering his foot to fit into one of the crevices in the wall’s slats to hoist himself up. He heaves all his body weight into throwing himself into Zuko’s torso. His sluggish friend seems to jolt awake at the sudden hunk-of-Sokka flying at him and flails his arms out to catch him around the waist before falling back onto the bed.</p><p>Sokka lands safely on a winded Zuko’s torso, the bag with the mug laying miraculously on the bed along with them. </p><p>“Is this a one-time thing or am I gonna have to invest in a helmet?” Zuko rasps, still trying to catch his breath after Sokka basically body-slammed all the oxygen from his lungs.</p><p>Instead of answering, Sokka just props himself up on his elbows and smiles down dumbly at a slightly alarmed Zuko.</p><p>Zuko just raises his eyebrows at him, but Sokka can see the corners of his mouth twitching to mirror his own smile.</p><p>“Hi, Sokka.”</p><p> “Heeyyy. Miss me?</p><p>Sokka can see a playful look in Zuko’s eyes as he opens his mouth to say something, but then his initial retort seems to die in his throat and the look fades into more of an unguarded, fragile grin. “Yeah.”</p><p>Sokka feels his neck grow hot. He rolls off Zuko and sits up. </p><p>“Were you sleeping?”</p><p>Zuko sits up after Sokka, rubbing his temple sleepily. “Yeah, long shift at work.”</p><p>There’s a lull in the conversation as Zuko yawns again, stretching his arms up over his arm, and Zuko’s —Sokka’s—hoodie rides up just enough for him to turn his head to avoid being caught for gawking. Instead, he settles his gaze on the bag just behind Zuko. </p><p>“Oh yeah! I got you something.”</p><p>Zuko tilts his head with a soft <em> Oh?, </em>all while wearing his hoodie, with tousled hair. Easy to say that Sokka is actively losing years of his life.</p><p>“<em> Ahem, </em>yes. And I’m not one to get people’s hopes up or anything, but might I say, this is truly a work of art.” Sokka reaches past Zuko to grab the bag and set it in front of him. “Some lonely white guy poured hours of creative labor into designing this —potentially as a cry for help—and I hope you will humbly accept it.”</p><p>Zuko snorts, peering curiously into the bag. “This isn’t anything potentially emotionally scarring is it?”</p><p>“Open it!!”</p><p>“Okay, okay. I’m opening it, you happy?” Zuko looks down at the wrapped mug, his long fingers carefully unwrapping it, which would have made the situation tenser if it weren’t for the contents. </p><p>It takes a minute for Zuko’s eyes to dart over the words before he’s breaking out into a smile, and then he’s laughing. His throat is still scratchy with sleep and his laugh comes out in a low but full sound. “Oh my god Sokka, what the fuck?” </p><p>Sokka can barely contain the wild grin plastered on his face. “Is that a good what the fuck?”</p><p>Zuko’s cradling the mug in his hands, rolling his eyes at him, still beaming. “No, I’m emotionally scarred. I demand financial compensation for the cost of my therapy.” His tone is oozing sarcasm. </p><p>Sokka gasps in mock offense. “I’ll have you know, I put my whole heart into finding you that gift!”</p><p>“I see, well then I guess your heart was in the right place. I’ll accept it.” Zuko huffs in amusement, looking back down at the mug to examine it closer. “I can’t believe you got me a mug that says <em> Women Want Me, Fish Fear Me. </em>Sokka, I’m gay.”</p><p>Sokka can’t handle back the boisterous laughter that rips out of his throat. “And what does that have to do with the fish part!?”</p><p>“Easy— fish are homophobic.” He says it without batting an eye, and Sokka is near tears from laughing so hard after he says it.</p><p>The conversation continues to flow easily between them, and oh <em> man </em> he missed talking to Zuko; it’s ridiculous, it’s only been a <em> week</em>, but that was a whole week spent realizing the silence without Zuko’s snide remarks to fill it, a whole week missing the comfort of easily slipping into conversation with another person. He’d had enough strained, laborious conversations to last a lifetime after this week, but he knows that he’s gonna have to have one more with Zuko before things can truly be calm.</p><p>Zuko’s laugh is contagious though, and the way his scar crunches up around his smile lines has Sokka on his knees ready to give up anything, including a fancy engineering job, to see it again and again.</p><p>But of course, life is cruel and has unfavorable timing as always, and he can’t make a career out of watching Zuko’s eyes light up whenever Sokka cracks a dumb joke. Nothing feels quite real when Sokka shuffles off his shoes and follows behind Zuko as he starts asking him questions about the trip while trudging his way to the kitchen.</p><p>He wants to say something so bad, to give in and empty his chest of all the building anxiety, but the only words filtering out his mouth are just basic run-downs of how his trip went; the cool wood of the kitchen cabinets pressing against his back as he watches Zuko mindlessly wash out the mug.</p><p>The faucet shuts off, and Zuko turns around to open the cabinet behind Sokka’s head to tuck away his gift. He watches as Zuko flips a lock of hair out of his face before he’s locking eyes with Sokka.</p><p>There’s a weird moment of just nothing but them looking at each other before Zuko clears his throat to start filling the quiet again. </p><p>“I was, uh, thinking about the conversation we had a while back.”</p><p>“What conversation?” Sokka asks, brows furrowed.</p><p>“Umm, the one where you said you were lonely and wanted to catch up with friends?”</p><p>“Oh! That one.” Sokka goes to pull at Zuko’s —again, Sokka’s— hoodie strings. “Why are you thinking about that?” He asks while fiddling with his hoodie strings for no particular reason besides he has the worst case of grabby-hands known to man. It’s something he discovered after getting close to Zuko, who revels in the physical touch.</p><p>“I was thinking we could uh, have a party or something? With them, that is.”</p><p>Sokka thinks about the idea for a minute, it might be worth a shot. “Who would we invite?”</p><p>“It would be up to you, but maybe Aang, Katara, Toph, Teo…” Zuko trails off to lean against the cabinets with Sokka. “I don’t know. I just thought it would be a nice thing to do, you know, for you. If you’re uncomfortable with it then—”</p><p>Sokka interrupts him. “No! No.” He lets go of the hoodie strings and begins to rub at his palms with his thumb smiling to himself before looking back at Zuko’s questioning gaze. “I think it’s a great idea. Thanks, Zuko.”</p><p>Aaaand they’re back to smiling dumbly at each other. </p><p>“Oh, fuck it, can I hug you?” Sokka says after a beat. Zuko’s eyes go wide, but after a second or two he’s nodding sheepishly and letting Sokka wrap his arms around him in a big bear-hug. He smells like jasmine shampoo.</p><p>“I missed you,” Zuko says into Sokka’s collarbone.</p><p>Sokka snorts. “I was only gone for a week.”</p><p>Zuko pinches his side and Sokka wiggles against him. “Hey! Fine, I missed you too. A lot. One-sidedly sending you selfies of me kissing fish is only so fulfilling.”</p><p>“I made it your contact photo, you kinda look like those straight guys that revolve their entire personality around fishing, not gonna lie.” </p><p>Sokka yanks his head from where he was laying it on Zuko’s shoulder to glare at him, a scandalized look permeating his features. “How <em> dare </em> you. Would just any straight guy kiss a fish and then send it to his homie? You should feel honor, dear Zuko, <em> honored.”  </em></p><p>“Did the fish even consent? I was under the impression that fish were homophobic from our earlier conversation.”</p><p>“It was a girl fish! Probably. And fish can’t consent!”</p><p>“Wow, excuses. You’re a horrible person, I thought I knew you, Sokka.” Zuko’s flashing him his worst <em> I’m fucking with you and you like it </em>smirk. Sokka knows it too well at this point.</p><p>Sokka whines and lets go of him. “Did you just completely skip over the part where I said I missed you too? I sent you so many fish selfies!”</p><p>Zuko’s grabs Sokka's cheek and pinches. “I already said I missed you too, you idiot—”</p><p>At that moment, Zuko’s uncle walks into the kitchen. Zuko’s rips his hand from where it was on Sokka’s cheek and whirls his head around to face him.</p><p>“Uncle!”</p><p>Iroh has an amused glint in his eye, and his eternal soft expression etched into his features. “Hello, Zuko.” He looks over at Sokka and nods at him too. “Ah, Sokka. What a lovely surprise. I’m so glad Zuko has welcomed you into our home. I was wondering who my nephew was talking to, I didn’t hear you come through the door.”</p><p>“Uhhh, yeah he was really quiet coming in,” Zuko says, clearly averting his gaze to look intensely at some bananas in the corner as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.</p><p>He's so bad at lying to his uncle, it's endearing.</p><p>Sokka mirrors Iroh’s smile and nods back. “Hi Iroh, thank you. Yeah, I came in through the window, actually.” He hears Zuko smack his forehead next to him. Iroh raises a questioning eyebrow in response, but amusement dances in his eyes. </p><p>“What an innovative and youthful method, very you, Sokka.”</p><p>Sokka grins as he can hear Zuko groan next to him like Sokka unintentionally sneaking in is anything to be embarrassed by. “ I was wondering if I could invade your home for the night if you don’t mind?” </p><p>“Of course!” Iroh claps his hands together, looking satisfied. “How lovely, Zuko has truly missed you while you were away on vacation. I hope your travels were safe?” </p><p>“The trip was great,” Sokka side-eyes Zuko, whose face is flushing more and more by the second, and smiles to himself before directing his attention back on Iroh. “Thank you so much for the time off, I hope you didn’t mind too much.”</p><p>Iroh waves his hand dismissively at him, before walking to grab a tea set off the island counter. “I did not mind at all, having Katara help around the shop while you were gone was very thoughtful of you. She was lovely company.”</p><p>Sokka nods and smiles politely. “Yeah, she’s pretty great. Thank you again.”</p><p>Zuko clears his throat. “So Uncle, did you need anything?”</p><p>“Oh,” Iroh shifts his gaze to look at his tea-set. “My apologies if I was interrupting, I was just on my way to grab a hot cup of ginseng tea. Can I interest you boys in some?”</p><p>Zuko shakes his head before Sokka can respond. “No, you weren’t bothering us Uncle. We’ll pass on the tea. We were just about to go back into my room anyway.”</p><p>Iroh chuckles. “Okay, have fun with your friend, my nephew. Goodnight Sokka.”</p><p>Sokka waves at Iroh just as Zuko is dragging him out of the kitchen. “Goodnight! Thanks again for letting me crash here!” </p><p>They’re back in Zuko’s room, with a soft click of the door, and a slightly red-eared Zuko.</p><p>“<em>Awwwww</em>," Sokka says in his best babying-tone, "why are you so embarrassed?”</p><p>Zuko rolls his eyes. “I’m not <em> embarrassed</em>. You just... did you <em> have </em>to say the window part?” Sokka watches as Zuko struts over to where the TV is, fiddling with the DVD player to start playing a movie. “It’s not like you shouldn’t have it just sounded… suggestive?”</p><p>The bed heaves under Sokka’s weight as he sits down, and thinks over what Zuko said, trying to determine the “suggestive” part and— <em>oh. </em></p><p>“You made it sound like I was sneaking you in or something and— I mean Uncle doesn't care, but…” Sokka watches as Zuko turns around to sit next to Sokka on the bed, nibbling on his lower lip. “My Uncle kinda thinks we’re…”</p><p>Now it’s Sokka’s turn to become flustered. His ears don’t turn red like Zuko’s— Sokka’s skin is darker than his— but he can feel his face begin to grow hot. “Oh. Oh wow. For real? I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about that, I hope you weren’t uncomfortable.”</p><p>“You didn’t make me uncomfortable! I mean, us dating isn’t an uncomfortable concept. No wait, what I mean is— you’re not gross or anything.” Zuko cringes at himself, his hand pinching at his nose-bridge in frustration. “Oh my god, I’m so bad at this. I don’t know why I even brought this up.”</p><p>“You’re fine! No, I get it. You don’t want any misunderstandings.” Sokka smiles to comfort Zuko, but it comes out too wide and too goofy-looking. He can’t help it. Zuko’s words of <em> I’m not uncomfortable with the concept of dating you </em> is racing through Sokka’s head and he’s unable to comprehend anything else at the moment. It’s kinda sad how fast his heart is racing at even the thought of Zuko acknowledging the concept of dating between them, let alone his <em> Uncle </em> drawing that conclusion. </p><p>“Yeah, ” Zuko rubs at the back of his neck. “Anyways, sorry about that. Um, you said you wanted to watch Fast and Furious 9 last time I came over, right?” </p><p>It’s clear how he’s trying to change the subject, but Sokka can’t help but perk up at the mention of the movie, deciding to bury his low-key freakout for another time. </p><p>“Wait, no way. Did you buy it?”</p><p>Zuko hums. “You said that you scratched up your last one pretty bad to the point of it not working. So I figured I’d buy it.”</p><p>“I knew it!” He sits up abruptly, knocking knees with Zuko. “You actually do like it!”</p><p>Zuko shoots him down almost immediately with a scrunching of his nose. “Absolutely not. I just like criticizing the movies for their predictable formulaic plot and objectification of women.” </p><p>“Okay so yes I enjoy doing that too. But! You have to admit that you like watching cars do crazy shit as much as the next person.” Sokka states confidently. </p><p>Zuko deadpans in response. “Never.”</p><p>Sokka groans, and flops down on the bed. “I’ll get you to admit it one of these days.”</p><p>“Your efforts are futile, I have my honor to uphold as a person who strongly believes in the harm of cash-grab movies to the film industry.”</p><p>Sokka turns his head to roll his eyes playfully. “Yeah yeah, I’m sure that’s why you bought the DVD for the movie.”</p><p>Zuko harrumphs and picks up the remote to press play so that the <em> shitty cash-grab movie</em> he hates so much starts playing. “That’s different. I bought it for you.”</p><p>Despite Zuko’s refusal to admit his semi-enjoyment of the <em> Fast and Furious </em> franchise, Sokka’s heart warms at the thought of Zuko thinking of him so he doesn’t retort back with any of his usual quips, instead they fall into a comfortable silence after that, shuffling to change their position on the bed so that they’re leaning against Zuko’s headboard next to each other to watch the movie. </p><p>They’re at a particularly boring part of the movie where Vin Diesel is monologuing again, so Sokka starts up some idle chatter.</p><p>“When were you thinking about having that party?” Sokka asks.</p><p>The TV is flashing fluorescent colors across the expanse of Zuko’s face as he turns his gaze to look at Sokka just as some car explodes, sending red and orange hues to flood the right side of Zuko’s cheek. “It’s up to you, Sokka. It’s a party for you, it was just my idea.” </p><p>There’s not really a particular time that Sokka can think of that wouldn’t work for him, before he remembers: <em>W</em><em>e have a position opening up in a few months. </em> It’s mid-December now, so that would mean probably around March. There’s a sinking feeling in Sokka’s gut when it comes to his realization that this party might not just be to catch up, but to say goodbye too. </p><p>He can’t help the sad smile that sneaks it’s way onto his face. “Maybe in January? We should let things calm down for the holidays before we plan anything big.”  </p><p>Zuko doesn’t seem to catch Sokka’s change of tone, and nods along, eyes glued back to the TV. “That sounds good, gives time to plan too. I’ll help out with organizing it--” He stops mid-thought to start commenting on the movie again. “Yeah, there’s no <em> way </em> that is humanly possible. Sokka, are you seeing this?” He motions dramatically to the TV.</p><p>Sokka pipes up with his own rebuttal of Zuko’s commentary, and the conversation naturally goes back to the movie before any more can be said. Watching Zuko’s mindlessly ramble off his criticisms of the movie, most under his breath, is infinitely amusing. He can’t help but be a little sad at the thought of them finishing the series, but there’s another feeling that he can’t seem to get rid of nagging at the back of his brain, making him feel guilty. </p><p>He should probably tell Zuko about the email he got, tell him about the possibility of him leaving soon. Maybe Zuko would even reassure him that he’s just being dramatic about the whole thing. maybe Zuko would convince that late-stage capitalism <em> does </em>care about his needs, so there’s no way they’ll have him drop his whole life so suddenly. </p><p>Those all sound fine and dandy, but the small inkling that Zuko would congratulate him without a second-thought terrifies Sokka more than it should. There’s this helpless little hope in his mind that Zuko might like him back, and if Zuko didn’t care about him leaving? Well, Sokka’s heart would be <em> crushed. </em>Also, who knows? They might email him back saying: </p><p>
  <em> Sike! Actually, you suck major ass, and we revoke ever considering you. You’re nothing but an insignificant little clown. Good luck auctioning your body and sanity off to the next company who decides they need a fancy new wage slave, you’ll need it!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> XOXO, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Company That’s Too Good For You </em>
</p><p>His pessimism assists his deliberation during the duration of the movie, and he concludes to not tell Zuko about the email yet. Maybe when he’s feeling more confident about their relationship. He’ll tell him eventually, but right now, he wants to continue to live in that illusion that he can continue to live alongside Zuko like this for a bit longer. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Heyyyyyy, heyyyyy. How y'all doing? Here for my every-2-months update. There's only one chapter left, and I'm currently starting on it as I'm uploading this in hopes of getting it to you guys somewhere in the next few weeks, it's gonna be a long one so I hope that makes up for the long update time for this one! </p><p>Also what the hell??? Shoutout to everyone who's taken the time to read this far, gives kudos, and leave comments. Especially comments, it really warms my heart whenever people take extra time to observe and comment on my writing?? I think because I just kinda post stuff without expecting anything, and then you guys just go out of your way to comment nice things. It's bonkers. I'm just happy people enjoy my writing despite its flaws :)</p><p>As always, take care of yourselves &lt;3 See u in the next update.</p>
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